


Incubus Wish

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 42,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: You eat breakfast and reflect on your eccentric lover.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 46
Kudos: 250





	1. At Breakfast

You sat at the dining room table, sipping coffee and reading the news on your phone. Morning sunlight filtered through the windows, giving the dining room a golden glow. Outside the birds sang in the trees, and there was no where you had to rush off to today; the morning was yours to do with as you pleased. The whole scene was as relaxing as it was romantic. Though, you weren’t one for noticing romantic scenes like that. You were just getting on with your morning as usual.  


As you read the current events app on your phone, you ran your finger over the rim of your coffee mug. Occasionally, you would take a break from your reading to watch the steam coming from the dark liquid, becoming easily distracted as you barely cared for reading the news anyway.  


You had recently come to the realization that you never understood why you had made a habit out of reading the news. Especially considering the only news in the world is that everything is, generally, very bad. Starting the day off with the knowledge that things are very bad never did seem like the best thing in the world to help create a happy and productive day, but mature adults keep updated on current events, so you supposed you had to try too. At least to keep up appearances of being a mature and functioning adult, if for no one else but yourself.  


The feeling of fingers through your hair pleasantly brought your back from the reality of real-world issues, back into the wonderful stupor of waking up to find your companion was still home.  


Your companion was a rather mysterious individual, a well-built man thick black hair and piercing green eyes. You had never considered yourself the type of person who cared too terribly much about the bodies of other people, but even you had to admit you greatly appreciated his perfect, fit body. You especially liked the tangling and tugging of his fingers in your hair, when the mood was right. His hands through your hair were currently much gentler, however, something you appreciated. You loved his way of being gentler than any other man ever seemed to know how to be.  


He smiled at you and kissed your forehead, sitting on the table beside your coffee. “Did you sleep well, darling?” He asked.  


You blushed slightly and smiled, picking up the mug and taking a sip. He knew you loved the pet name, even if you never admitted it. You never would admit how much you blushed at simple acts of affection, something you had never known about yourself until meeting him.  


“I did.” You replied, smiling over the rim of the cup. “This is the fourth time this week we’ve gotten to see each other.”  


“It is.” He grinned, taking the mug from you and taking a sip. “I like seeing you so often.” You never considered yourself a romantic person, but something in this man brought out a softer side of you. Perhaps it was how you never felt the usual pressures of being in a relationship with him. It felt as if the two of you had skipped over the phase of getting to know each other and settled straight into simple comfort.  


“I do too.” You took your mug back from him and smiled as he slid into a chair.  


He grabbed a piece of toast off your plate, his expression darkening. “You haven’t been eating enough. You haven’t been visiting friends, all you do in your free time is look at your phone. Don’t make me worry.”  


Sighing and sipping your drink, you took a moment, thinking out the right response. It was rare when he got like this, but you knew it was his way of trying to take care of you, so you tried to not be annoyed by it. “I’m overwhelmed with work. I don’t mean to worry you.”  


He eyed you quietly. “I just want you happy.” He placed your toast back on your plate, evidently deciding against stealing it from you. “Can I touch you?”  


“Of course.” You mumbled while reaching out to take his hand. However, before you could, your assistant burst into your office with his usual dramatic flourish and you woke up from the dream.  


“We have a situation!” Kevin shouted.  


“Mgh!” You grunted, sitting up, disoriented from leaving such a vivid dream too quickly. “Yes?”  


“Uh, you have drool on your chin.” Kevin started. “But what I came in to say is that your father is here with your fiancé.”  


Groaning, you wiped off your chin and rubbed your forehead, disgusted with yourself for falling asleep at work. “Right. I forgot.”  


Kevin walked over, fixing your collar and straightening out your desk, forever the maid, as Kevin would put it. “Should I send them in?”  


“First of all, thank you for waking up my sorry ass. Second, distract them for ten minutes, I need to clean myself up a little. Alright?” You started pulling out a mirror and comb from the desk, becoming aware once looking in the mirror that you had nap indents on your cheek from the fabric of your shirt.  


Kevin walked to the door, eyeing the messy office with disdain. “I’ll do my best.”  


Sighing, you combed your hair and fixed up your shirt before trying to quickly unclutter the desk by shoving everything into the drawers. Your office was a nice one, with big windows directly behind the desk and sleek, modern furniture. The issue was, you were a bit of a slob, and with a pile of forgotten blazers thrown over one chair, and papers and binders on about every flat surface, there was no way to clean that in ten minutes. At least Kevin had cleared off the desk.  


Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do about the nap lines but wait that out. More unfortunately, your fiancé and father barged into your office nine minutes earlier than anticipated.  


“Sorry for keeping you both waiting.” You said with absolutely no genuine emotion. Kevin stood in the doorway behind the unwelcome guests shaking his head and holding up his hands in apology. “So, what did you both want to talk about?”  


Your father walked up to the desk and you stood, annoyed by how you could already tell he was going to chew you out as if you were still a child. “Malcolm told me you haven’t spent any time with him.”  


Your fiancé, Malcolm, stood closer to the door on his phone, looking incredibly embarrassed for someone who literally tattled on you to your dad. Looking behind them, you saw that Kevin had abandoned you with these two. Traitor.  


Malcolm was a young man, who you happened to be engaged to. The two of you got along well enough, but you harbored no feelings of affection for him. In fact, the longer the two of you stayed engaged, the more irritating you found him. He and your father happened to be golfing buddies and you resented that, as it was probably over a game of golf that Malcolm had mentioned that you had blown him off one too many times.  


You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance, trying not to let your irritation show, and failing poorly. “I’ll admit, I’ve been quite busy lately. I’m sorry for neglecting you, Malcolm, but my work is important.”  


Malcolm raised the palms of his hands slightly in what you guessed was a silent apology, however when your father turned to look at him Malcolm quickly covered himself by stating, “You’ve cancelled almost all of our dates.” With no emotion in his voice whatsoever.  


“I’m just very busy right now.” You said. You couldn’t help but compare the man in your dreams to the Malcolm you were supposed to marry. The man in your dreams told you to take better care of yourself and actually cared about your well-being. Meanwhile Malcolm was… himself. Nothing particularly wrong with him, but nothing particularly interesting or good about him, either.  


'Am I honestly so starved for understanding my subconscious made up a partner so I wouldn’t go over the edge? Worse yet, am I really comparting a made-up guy to a real-life relationship? No matter who I could end up with, I’d never make time for him. I fuck up every relationship, don’t start thinking differently.' You ranted to yourself.  


“You’re a disgrace of a fiancé.” Your father growled. “You are coming with us to dinner with Malcolm’s parents. Tonight.”  


“I’m supposed to come before everything else.” Malcolm said in a voice that was a bit higher pitched than his own, in what you were pretty sure was supposed to be a joke that might relive the tension. However, your father must have missed the sarcasm, because he nodded.  


Suddenly, a low growl came from behind you, near the window. But the window was closed, the office was on the eighth floor, and the sound was from nearly directly behind you. You snapped around, but there was nothing there.  


Malcolm frowned, snapping to attention. “What the hell was that?”  


“I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, feeling cold.  


Malcolm frowned, stepping closer to you, also getting an uneasy feeling. Even your father looked uncomfortable, leaning down and looking under the furniture for rats or perhaps, somehow, a very angry raccoon, while Malcolm mumbled. “Let’s just go. Okay? I didn’t care about any of this from the start, anyway.”  


You finally tore your eyes away from the windows where the growl came from, looking at your fiancé. You knew it had been your dad who had decided to make a big deal over a few missed dates. Both you and Malcolm had been very content to ignore each other the for duration of the engagement, but, you had to admit, you should at least meet up with Malcolm ’s parents. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave work early, I’m sure Kevin can hold down the fort for a night.”  


Malcolm nodded. “Bar Jolene at six.” And with that he hurried out of the office, happy to be away from the uncomfortable situation that had just transpired. You saw Malcom go directly to Kevin’s desk and suggesting getting an exterminator, or just a very gung-ho employee with a net and a baseball bat, leaving you alone with your father.  


“You honestly can’t expect me to want to be with that.” You snapped when he was out of earshot, albeit a bit meanly. “If you must pick a rich guy I have to get married to, couldn’t have you picked one that is in any way interesting?”  


“I’m sure I’ll add that to the list next time I network. Get your head out of your ass. He’s a good guy, why the hell have you been fighting this so hard? You were never the romantic type.” He walked to the door without waiting for your response, turning to give you one final glare. “You and he will get along long enough to get married, and then my company will expand tremendously. You never had a problem with this arrangement before.” And before you could reply, he slammed the door and left.  


You groaned loudly and sat on your desk, rubbing your eyes. He had been right. You never did care about the arranged marriage, not until recently. You had never been romantic, not until the man in your dreams started showing up.  


What a dumb reason to ruin your life. You thought bitterly before moving back to your seat and getting back to work.


	2. The Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smoking is bad but no one would ever go outside on purpose if they weren't smoking.

Leaning against the outside of the overrated, overpriced bar, you took a drag of your cigarette. You knew you’d have to be fast about this guilty puff, as you had told your party that you were going to the restroom. As much as you told yourself you didn’t care about the opinions of Malcolm and his parents, even you had to admit no one wants to be that guy who spent ten minutes in the bathroom.  


The night air was bordering on frigid, and the sidewalks and roads were covered in either freezing water or black slush that hadn’t yet melted. Not that it would matter, as there was supposed to be a blizzard in a few days anyway. Everyone around you was in a hurry to get into buildings, get into their cars, so they wouldn’t have to be in the cold or wet anymore. You, on the other hand, had to force yourself to hurry, as you would rather be damp and miserable than back inside the restaurant and miserable. Your hands were going numb, so you shifted your cigarette from one hand to the other, shoving your free hand in your pocket when you had the chance.  


Finishing the cigarette, you threw it on the ground and stepped on it before pinching the bridge of your nose. You tried to tell yourself that everything wasn’t as bad as you were building it up to be. Sure, Malcolm was boring and overall left no lasting impression, but at least he was young and handsome. Maybe he’d develop a personality over time. Even if he didn’t, he had a good muscular figure. You figured you could work with that.  


Until you remembered how much better the man in your dreams was.  


You physically shook your head, trying to stop the negative spiral from the outside. If we’re going to get through this, I must be positive. Okay, positivity.  


Sure, Malcolm’s parents were loud, interrupted, and spoke over other people, but at least that meant that you would never have to think of something to say around them. That was a plus, as they exclusively spoke about people you didn’t know, and therefore could make no comment on.  


Sighing, you closed your eyes for a minute, psyching yourself up to go back inside and live the objectively very good life you had been given.  


Just one more cigarette, just one more.  


You put a cigarette in your mouth, bringing a lighter to the cigarette and attempting to flick it on. Nothing. You groaned and kept trying to get it to light, when a masculine hand reached over with its’ own lighter, lighting the cigarette for you.  


“Thanks.” You mumbled around the smoke, turning to your savior. “H-…”  


There he was. The man from your dream. Everything about him was exactly the same as he appeared in the dreams. His dark curly hair, his eyes, his build, here he was, every detail somehow even more perfect in person. You were temporarily stunned silent by the sight of him. The man put his lighter back in his pocket as if his very existence didn’t change everything.  


“No problem.” He smiled and turned to walk away.  


“Wait! Please!” You cried, stepping toward him.  


He looked at you oddly, which, was fair. A stranger he didn’t know was shouting at him in the middle of the sidewalk with your jaw hanging open like you’d seen a ghost.  


“Uh.” You floundered, trying to remember how functioning adults speak to one another. Until you remembered, you’d never learned his name in the dreams. “What’s your name?”  


He blinked and scratched the back of his head, looking surprisingly shy at such a normal question, no matter how abnormal the situation was for you. “My first name is Brahms.”  


“Th-that’s a great name. Uh…” You stammered. Brahms stared at you with his eyebrows raised.  


'God I’m an idiot.' You inwardly kicked yourself.  


“Thanks again for the light. Sorry for holding you up.” You finally pulled yourself together long enough to remember how to act like a person again, taking a step back, giving Brahms back his personal space.  


Brahms smiled. “Don’t worry about it. And you? What’s your name?”  


You immediately held out your cigarette hand, realized your mistake, then quickly retracted it and held out your free hand. “(Y/N).”  


Brahms chuckles and shook your hand. “Good to meet you.”  


You squeezed his hand for a second before pulling back. This guy was reverting your back to high school levels of awkward. Which was understandable in some ways, but you still didn’t appreciate it.  


“Since you’re keeping me, can I bum one of those?” Brahms asked, gesturing to the cigarette.  


“Oh, yeah, sure.” You said, pulling out your pack. “Sorry for doing what I’m doing. I’m usually a lot smoother.”  


You handed him a cigarette and Brahms chuckled before putting it between his lips and lighting it. “Never would’ve guessed. So, what are you doing out here?”  


Sighing heavily and putting your cigarette pack back in your pocket, you thought of the right way to word it. “Escaping.”  


“Ouch. From what and or who?” Brahms rested against the wall of the bar, looking out into the crowd of rushing people, blowing a bit of smoke out in front of him.  


“My father, my fiancé, and my fiancé’s parents.” You replied before taking a long drag yourself. “I feel bad saying it, but lately I can’t stand him. In the beginning I could tolerate him, but things changed.”  


“Well, why can’t you stand him? If you don’t mind me playing therapist.” Brahms looked over at you, smiling that smile you’d seen a thousand times.  


“He’s boring. Unsupportive. Doesn’t care about me as a person.” Eyeing Brahms, you tried to take in every detail of his face without making it too obvious you were staring. “Sorry. I don’t usually spill my guts like this. You just remind me of someone.”  


“I’m sorry.” Brahms mumbled, reaching up with his free hand and running his hand through your hair. Running his hand through your hair, exactly like he’d done so many times before in your dreams.  


You froze. You knew your eyes must have widened, knew you must have looked crazy, but you knew the feeling of his hands. “I know I know you!”  


Brahms stepped back, pulling his hand away, looking-surprisingly-guilty. He opened his mouth to respond, when suddenly, “Hey.”  


Your shoulders automatically stiffened at the sound of the voice. Malcolm had followed you outside.  


“You took so long we thought you went home.” Malcolm walked up to you, and you forced yourself to turn away from Brahms. “Your dad’s hunting for you in the bathroom. Mom wanted me to see if you were out here for some reason.” Malcolm froze, looking behind his fiancé to the heart breakingly handsome man that was Brahms.  


Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, and he slid his arm over your shoulders, which, you found strange. Considering the two of you had literally never had any physical contact before.  


“You smell like smoke.” Malcolm smiled at you before glaring daggers at Brahms. “And who are you?”  


Brahms smiled pleasantly and held out his hand for Malcolm to take. “Brahms. We were just talking.”  


Malcolm looked at Brahms’s hand as if it were something particularly distasteful. “Right. Well, kindly fuck off.”  


You looked at your betrothed in shock. “Malcolm!”  


Brahms’s face held the same expression as before, appearing physically unbothered by the blatant rudeness. “I’ll be sure to do so, Malcolm.”  


“Good.” Malcolm started dragging you to the entrance of the bar. You turned back to apologize on Malcolm’s behalf, but Brahms was gone.  


Probably whisked away in the crowd. You figured. Probably eager to get away from the crazy person and with a rude-ass fiancé.  


“Malcolm, that was incredibly rude. What was that about?” You snapped as you re-entered the bar. It was so loud you had to shout to hear each other, which you were completely fine with, seeing as you were furious that you had just met the man who had been haunting you for weeks and Malcolm had ruined your chance to learn anything about him other than his name.  


Malcolm frowned and took his arm off you, stopping in the middle of the entryway, blocking everyone else from coming and going. “I know we aren’t meant to be or anything. I know that the second we’re married we’re probably going to be cheating on each other like there’s no tomorrow.”  


A group of people brushed past Malcom while glaring daggers, and you pulled him aside by the coat rack when a hostess started giving them the eye. “And your point?”  


Malcolm sighed. “I’m not any happier about this than you are. We just have to get through this long enough to buy a house big enough that we never have to see each other again.”  


“Mmhmm.” You hummed incredulously. “Then why did you go to my father and complain that we never see each other?”  


“Your dad asked how our last date was, and I said we never had one. I didn’t think he’d break down your office door over it.” Malcolm frowned, shifting his phone from hand to hand, obviously a little upset over being accused of being a tattletale.  


“Then why were you rude to that guy just now? I’d only just met him, there was no reason to act like that.” You pressed, now legitimately curious by his actions.  


“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Malcolm snapped. “You’re my fiancé! No guy wants to see his fiance with another guy, even if you do have a stick up your ass.”  


“Hey…” You said in a warning tone.  


“It’s not like I want to be married either, okay? I’m just as unhappy as you.” He frowned deeply and squeezed his phone in his hands, and you instantly felt guilty for everything.  


You couldn’t blame him for your situation. He was in this too, as a victim, not a willing participant. Malcolm had just as much of a reason not to get married as you.  


“Hey, hey, I’m sorry.” You reached out and put your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll try to be nicer. Okay? This is mostly my fault, since I’m too much of a coward to stand up to dad and break it off.”  


“Your parents threaten to take away your inheritance too?” Malcolm asked.  


“Yeah. Poor unfortunate us, huh?” You grinned.  


Malcolm laughed softly and gave you a friendly punch on the arm as the two of you turned to walk back to the table.  


Things seemed to be looking up before you saw your father walking towards the both of you.  


“There you two are. I’ve been calling you. Dinner is being held up because you went MIA. Love birds, back at the table, now.” Bruce turned and started walking back to the table, and the two so-called love birds followed as children do who have been caught doing something wrong.  


You, still feeling a bit guilty about your immature behavior, decided to try to further mend your relationship with Malcolm by joking with him. Leaning close to Malcolm’s ear, and keeping your voice low, you mumbled. “If you scare off any more hot guys, I will lose my inheritance just to fight you, you big baby.”  


Malcolm breathed through his nose in the kind of way one does when seeing something mildly funny on the internet. “I will end you.” He mumbled back.  


You mimicked his nose-breathe before sitting back at the table. The food had been set down, and Malcolm’s parents had definitely not waited for the children to return, as their plates were close to empty.  


“There you are, we had the whole town out looking for you!” Malcolm’s mom, Judy, near-shouted, on her fourth glass of wine. Judy had been a trophy wife by the age of nineteen, an occupation she carried a surprising amount of pride in. However, regardless of how young she had been when she found herself married, or how hot she had been when she got married, motherhood did end up coming with its own brand of corny jokes. “We assumed you’d be home by eleven!”  


Malcolm’s dad, Hamilton, chortled at the joke, him nursing his third whisky sour. He had been forty when he and Judy met. He was not a self-made millionaire like your father had been, Hamilton inherited his company and therefore had very little respect for it. Which was part of the reason he was fine marrying off his son just for a merger that could have just as easily been worked out in an office instead of a courthouse. “Very funny, very funny indeed. What a funny woman I have!”  


“Hah, yeah.” You replied, semi-laughing at the joke. Malcolm groaned before he sat, absorbing himself in the task of eating his food.  


Your dad laughed at Judy’s joke as if it were the funniest thing in the world, while stone cold sober. Your dad was a self-made millionaire, who was naturally business savvy and by no means had to sacrifice his child to an arranged marriage, however he figured that an easy way to expand was an old-fashioned marriage merge. He may have known how to compromise and dominate in the business office, but he also knew when taking the easy road might be, well, easier.  


After his performance of best-fake-laughter ended, he apologized on your behalf for putting dinner on hold. However, that was drowned out by Hamilton and Judy’s chatter about how loud it was in the bar and how people should honestly try to watch their volume while in public.  


You tried to get a word in at some point in the night, sure, but Malcolm’s parents were very good at talking a lot. Only those two truly spoke throughout dinner. Your dad tried to get a few words in but ultimately the conversation was dominated by things no one cared about.  


At least Malcolm and you could agree on something. He didn’t want you and you didn’t want him.


	3. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have another dream with Brahms in it.

You were in a bedroom this time. Not your bedroom, one far more ornate than yours and much, much tidier. Directly in front of you was a pair of double doors, open wide, letting a gentle breeze and soft moonlight filter into the room. Soft blue curtains flowed in the breeze.  


Through the open doors there was quiet countryside, devoid of any other architecture. Nothing but rolling hills and trees. The moonlight covered the land in a soft blue hue, and crickets chirped, and owls hooted, the sound something you hadn’t heard yourself in a long time, not since moving to the city.  


You couldn’t believe your mind would make up something like this. You couldn’t set such a scene even if you tried.  


Suddenly the familiar feeling of fingers through your hair brought your thoughts back to the room. You turned and there he was. The man in your dreams, the one you now knew as Brahms.  


“Hey there, stranger.” Brahms smiled and took your hand. “How was your day? Did you eat?”  


You looked at him. He looked the same as he did on the street. Just in different clothes. On the street he had been dressed for winter, here in light summer clothes, clothes like the men on romance books wear. But, Brahms was just as real standing in front of you now as he was earlier that night.  


“Would you know?” You murmured, squeezing his hand.  


“Hm?” Brahms hummed, sitting on the bed and pulling you in front of him, resting his hands on your hips.  


You looked down at him, his green eyes sparkling, smiling up at you as if you were something that could spark real joy in a person. You had always known he wasn’t real, you’d known it. No matter how often you had tried your best to fall asleep just to get the chance to see him, no matter how often you had compared real men to him, you’d known he was fake.  


Unfortunately, after seeing his doppelganger, you weren’t so sure anymore. You thought you had been secure in your understanding of him, but not after the bar. Not after seeing Brahms in person.  


“Wouldn’t you know if I was doing well?” You expanded, watching dream-Brahms’s brow wrinkle in confusion.  


“What do you mean?” He asked, running his hands up your back. You grabbed his hands and pulled them off, suspicious of the man you had spent most of your recent waking moments longing for.  


“I mean,” You let go of his hands and stepped back, away from him, “that I saw you today. I saw you in real life, and I don’t know what to make of that. I could just be accusing a figment of my imagination of, god, how do I word this? Accuse an imaginary person of existing right now, but I’m not entirely sure how else to go about this.” You ran your hands through your hair, agitated. “Are you…real? Are you real somehow?”  


Brahms froze, looking at you, then at his hands, and back to you. “I’m not real.” He said quickly.  


“I-.” You started, before turning away and pacing. Would a dream admit it’s a dream? What kind of Inception shit is this?  


“I’m just here to… help you.” Brahms scratched the back of his head awkwardly, not making eye contact with you. “I’m sorry.”  


'Okay, I could run around in circles justifying why a dream would or wouldn’t admit it isn’t real. Maybe I’m just too good at lucid dreaming. Nah, I don’t think my mind would make up an emotional support imaginary friend. Okay, okay, lets test something.' You thought.  


You looked at dream-Brahms very seriously, kneeling in front of him, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Brahms, I love you.” You said somberly, realizing, as sad as it might be, that you weren’t entirely lying.  


Instantly, Brahms’s face grew red and he turned his face away, rubbing his chin and trying not to smile. You tried to gauge his reaction, if this would be how you’d want an imaginary man to react to you professing your love, and god, you had no idea. The more you thought about what was real and what was imaginary the more your head hurt.  


'Well, I guess if he is real then I just set up some sort of expectation, confessing my love and all.' You thought.  


“L-love your life, not me.” He projected from behind his hand-barricade. You decided to press further.  


“No, I do. I don’t want to live in a world without you. I don’t want to be engaged to Malcolm. I want you.” You stated, gently petting his hair. Brahms finally turned back to you before putting his hand down, his vibe turning anxious and jerky. He stood, pacing around you quickly, wringing his hands in a very uncharacteristic fashion.  


“I’m not real.” He repeated, this time with more confidence. “I’m not real, but, I don’t want you to suffer life this. I want you happy.”  


He stood in one place only long enough to run his hand through your hair before resting his cool fingers on the back of your neck. “I’m going to save you.” He murmured before the dream ended.  


You snapped up in bed, in the middle of a cold sweat. Your breathing was hard. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest, and you brought two fingers to your neck, feeling your pulse. It felt as if you had just run a mile.  


“B-Brahms?” You whispered to the room. You instantly felt silly, but the cold feeling from your office came over your again, stronger now. Not just that, you felt as if you were being watched. A paper fluttered down from its place on the nightstand, unprompted.  


“Brahms?” You tried again, somehow becoming more positive that you weren’t alone.  


Against your instincts, the room remained silent even after your prompting.  


You laid back in bed, trying to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t come easily, even when the cold receded and the feeling of being watched ebbed, you remained awake.


	4. Well, That Escalated Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something went down last night, and it is online.

At eight am the next morning, at work, too tired for this shit, you stared at your phone, watching a video of your fiancé getting caught having sex with some girl at a party. You didn’t recognize her, which you didn’t mind, but you did have a bit of an uneasy feeling seeing Malcolm, the man you recently semi-bonded with, having sex on camera.  


You weren’t entirely sure what to feel at this point, because it wasn’t as if you really cared about Malcolm’s faithfulness, especially after the heart to heart at dinner the night before. However, it was a certain level of gross to see someone you casually knew having sex.  


You did feel bad for Malcolm, after all, something like this had gotten on the internet. It wasn’t his fault, everyone makes stupid decisions, only he was unfortunate enough to have his stupid decision caught on camera.  


You were about to exit out of the browser when your phone started ringing, the caller ID letting you know it was your father.  


You groaned loudly and heavily, trying to let any pent-up frustration out before speaking to him. “Hello?” You asked once picking it up.  


“Have you seen what just happened?” He shouted over the phone.  


“I was just looking at it.” You replied blandly, still torn on exactly how you should feel about the whole situation.  


“If it had just been a rumor this would be one thing. Hell, if you had been the one who caught him that would be fine. But no. That idiot had to get recorded and uploaded!” You heard a crash on your dad’s side of the line and had to physically cover your mouth to keep from laughing.  


“Now everyone in the damn world has seen his dick, the engagement is off! God damn it!” The line went dead, and you liked to think your father had thrown his phone and broke it.  


Leaning back in your chair, you looked at your phone, sorting through your thoughts. I’m going to save you, Brahms had said. He said that just the night before, and now here you were, waking up the next day to Kevin sending you the link that revealed your fiancé’s unfaithfulness, telling you to watch it with low volume.  


You sighed, physically shaking your head to try to clear it of this nonsense. Brahms was a random guy on the street you had met one time. The man in your dream was just that, a dream. Groaning, you put your head in your hands, getting ready to start the work day when you felt familiar fingers run through your hair.  


You shouted in surprise and jerked back, nearly falling out of your chair. Papers flew off your desk, but you hadn’t touched them in your fall. You watched in increasing panic when a sticky note hovered in mid-air, as if it were attached to something. It then jerked through the air back and forth, like it was being shaken off of something.  
It finally fluttered to the ground, and the room was silent aside from your increasingly panicked breathing.  


“Who’s there?!” You shouted, staring at the spot the sticky note had been hovering.  


Nothing.  


“Who’s there!” You clenched your fists and stood, glaring down the empty space.  


You felt your knees shaking, torn between telling yourself it was nothing, and guessing if you could run to the door and get out fast enough without being caught by whatever invisible force was in your office, when you heard a growl.  


It was faint, almost like it was coming from another room, but it sounded like something was growling. Not like an animal growl as there had been before, but like someone growling in frustration. You stood there with your jaw opening and shutting like a fish, before you settled on saying, “I won’t hurt you?” Phrasing it like a question, as you generally never had dealt with people who growled, nor invisible entities.  


The growl stopped for a moment, and you heard a deep intake of breath, like someone was calming themself down. Then, a man-like creature appeared in front of your desk.  


He had long black hair, and it looked like he was basically naked, only there was a black substance on nearly all of his skin. Your eyes widened as you looked closer at the substance, realizing that it was iridescent catsuit-like scales. The scales only covered certain parts of his skin, almost making a pattern. He wasn’t wearing anything, and you quickly cast your eyes up to meet the creature’s, not exactly wanting to look at his naked crotch. Half of his face was deformed, instead of an eye, there was a cluster of horns coming from where an eye would have been, and on where an eyebrow would have been there were only more horns, all about an inch high each.  


“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pulling something from behind him. You quickly realized it was a tail, long with a pointed tip, just like a devil’s would be in old cartoons.  


Oh my god. It’s a tail. A legitimate devil’s tail. Do I laugh? What the hell? You could only stare at the sight in front of you, dumbfounded.  


The creature wrung the tail in his hands, the end of it twitching as if it were alive. “Sorry.” He repeated.  


“Uh.” Was your only reply.  


“I, um, well I was going to eat you, but-.” He started.  


“Eat me?” You dove for the letter opener on your desk, pointing it at him. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but you better get the fuck out of here!”  


“N-not eat like you do! Eat like sex!” He blurted out, the tail twitching even more.  


You were silent after that, as you had no idea how to reply. He also stopped talking, looking continuously more uncomfortable by the second. You were starting to feel almost bad for him, as if you were the one who made this situation weird.  


He started growling again, louder this time.  


“Hey, um, stop that, I’m…” You trailed off, more than a little confused.  


The creature growled again before sighing heavily. “Sorry.” He finished before disappearing.  


“Hey!” You shouted at the spot, running over and waving your arms through the space he was in, but there was nothing to feel for. He had vanished into thin air.  


You stood there dumbfounded. “What the fuck has my life become?” You spat into the void. The void didn’t answer, but Kevin opened the door to the office.  


Kevin looked around for a moment. “Is he gone?” He asked.  


“What? Who?” You stormed over to him, getting ready to shake Kevin down for information if he somehow knew about the disappearing man.  


“Weren’t you and Mr. Malcolm fighting? I could hear, like, growling from my desk.” Kevin stepped past you, looking around at the scattered papers on the floor. “I didn’t know how he could get past me, but…did he come in through the window?”  


You felt yourself deflate. So, Kevin didn’t know.  


“Sorry about that.” You waved it off, walking to your desk. “I was on speakerphone.”  


“Oh, I see.” Kevin shook his head at the papers on the floor, giving you a look before kneeling and tidying it up. “I’m surprised he cared enough to call. I’m more surprised you cared enough to throw your papers everywhere like a baby.”  


“Yeah, well.” You shrugged and sat down. “Who knows?”  


Kevin finished tidying long enough to stare at you. Kevin watched you just a beat too long, and you, still wired from your experience with the supernatural, got irritated snapped your fingers at Kevin’s face.  


“Hey.” You snapped. “What are you looking at?”  


“You look sick.” Kevin replied bluntly, thumping the papers in front of you and pulling away from the desk. He walked toward the door. “I think you should go home. We’ll be fine without you for once.”  


“Oh, well, thanks. Maybe I will.” You sighed, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Sorry for snapping. Literally and figuratively.”  


“No problem. I know you’ve been stressed. Sure, you get paid about ten times more than me, but that’s whatever.” Kevin saluted and smirked before leaving and closing the door behind him.  


“Fuck!” You cried, slamming your head on the desk and immediately regretting it when pain shot through it.  


He was right. You're going home. You were seeing things.


	5. In Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to take a nap to see Brahms again.

You sat in bed, back in your pajamas at noon. You felt a bit of embarrassment over going home early, since your team thought you had gone home because your engagement had fallen through. Embarrassing, but considering that you had been visited by a disappearing man with scales, going home and resting was a step above checking yourself into the psych ward.  


“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” You snapped into the void, falling back onto the bed. You had a whole day to do whatever, and no idea what to do with it. You could spend it pondering repeatedly exactly what happened in the last twelve hours, but in the time it took for you to drive home and put on your pajamas, you had already gone over what you knew and come up with zero explanation.  


Your only plan was to try to take a nap.  


'I’m going to see him. I know he knows something. You thought to yourself. Oh god, I’m actually crazy. Fine.'  


“Okay, time to sleep, crazy ass.” You mumbled to yourself, lying on your pillow and closing your eyes.  


Your wishes be damned, sleep didn’t come easily. You shifted in bed, not nearly relaxed enough to sleep, even with aid.  


After about an hour of just lying in bed trying to sleep, you understandably got fidgety. You sighed, and not bothering to open your eyes, slipping your hand into your sleep pants and under your panties, figuring that you hadn’t given yourself relief in a long time, and would at best help you relax enough to get to sleep, and at worst stave off boredom.  


You kept your mind blank while you rubbed yourself, not trying to think about any one thing in particular, using this time to just let the pleasure be physical. You had spent enough brain power today, you figured, though you quickly realized that without some sort of fantasy behind the physicality, you wouldn’t get anywhere anytime soon. You almost considered turning on some porn, but quickly discarded that idea, as you knew that by the time you finally found a video that was to your tastes your will to masturbate would have died out, as the worry of getting a virus on your phone would inevitably rise.  


You pulled your hand back for a moment, pushing yourself up into sitting position, pulling down your sleep pants and underwear, still not opening your eyes. You were halfway toward convincing yourself to just look up some porn when, suddenly, you felt hot breath between your legs and a tongue licking up your pussy. Your eyes sprang open, and in front of you was the scaley disappearing devil from earlier, with his head between your legs and impossibly long tongue lapping at your clit.  


“What the fuck?” You shouted in surprise, jerking back from the mystery man.  


The devil looked up at you with his one crimson eye, looking just as startled as you for a second before his eye widened and he jumped back, falling off the bed and hitting the floor with a loud thump.  


“Are you okay?” You blurted out of instinct as he scrambled back to standing position.  


The devil started stuttering quickly, his tail flicking back and forth. You stared at him, somewhere between total shock and feeling violated.  


“I’m-!” He started.  


“Were you following me all day?!” You realized, quickly covering your bare legs with your covers and putting your back to the wall, suddenly wishing you kept a gun in your dresser.  


“Well, yes, I, well usually we try to make ourselves human and seduce people normally, but, um-!” He stuttered before frowning deeply, twisting his tail in his hands, backing away and averting his eye in what might have been an attempt at being polite if not for the fact his tongue had just been in places it had no permission to be.  


“The hell do you mean ‘we?’ You just fucking assaulted me, I should call the cops on your ass!” You reached for your phone, when the devil’s hand grabbed your wrist. It was a loose embrace, but it froze you in place. You felt your knees get weak, vaguely feeling relieved you were already sitting. The moment his hand touch you, you feelt dazed, looking up at your captor with glossy eyes.  


“I’m sorry, but I’m an incubus, and I can’t let you call the police on me, that wouldn’t end well for you.” He murmured, kneeling in front of you, running his free hand through his hair. Any nervousness he had shown earlier was gone.  


It took everything you had to grunt a reply, reaching out your hand to touch him anywhere you could, your body acting of its own accord.  


“I am truly sorry for ‘assaulting’ you, though. I don’t understand human sex politics at all.” He withdrew his hand, stepping back, and instantly you snapped back to attention, standing and backing away from him, your covers around your waist in an impromptu skirt.  


“What did you just do to me?” You whispered, looking at your wrist as if it were something foreign.  


“Seductive magic.” The man smiled, looking almost bashful, his tail swishing behind him like a cat. “I’m called Brahms, and I was just looking for some food, I’m sorry.”  


“Food?” You asked, feeling as though your head was going to explode if any more bombshells landed.  


“Well, incubus eat sexual energy, so when you started touching yourself it reminded me that I haven’t eaten in a while, and we’re like you, we have to eat at least three times a day, and it’s not good to skip meals but that’s basically all I’ve done lately, and when I smelled your energy-.” Brahms rambled, happy to supply answers to his human food, since explaining facts was a much easier feat than explaining why he had been following you around, specifically.  


You nodded slowly, looking from his iridescent scales, to his tail, to your wrist where Brahms had touched you so lightly only moments before. “And you’re…an incubus.” You repeated lamely.  


“Yes!” Brahms grinned. “I can prove it in case you still don’t believe me. Which I completely understand, since humans aren’t really supposed to know about us. But I didn’t really plan for any of this. But, anyway, you’re not crazy” Brahms smiled, looking almost nervous, before he stretched out his arms. You just watched quietly, even less sure of your place in the world than you had been just twenty minutes prior.  


Brahms rolled back his shoulders, and two leathery black wings sprouted from his back. He beat his wings a couple times, stretching them out.  


“See?” He touched one of his wings with his hand, smiling at you. “I’m really an incubus.”  


“Huh.” You nodded, shoulders slumping. “Ah-huh, an incubus. An incubus licked my vagina and now he’s got wings. An incubus is in my bedroom and he’s got wings. An incubus is in my bedroom and he licked my vag.” You shuffled to bed, pulling the covers over yourself. “An incubus licked my vag and I didn’t even cum, and I’m going to sleep.”  


“Ah!” Brahms leaned over your, his wings flapping nervously. “Did you want to cum? Or do you want to sleep?”  


“I’m going to sleep.” You mumbled numbly.  


“Do you want me to help you get to sleep?” Brahms asked sincerely.  


“Why not? Make me sleep.” You pulled the blanket over your head. “Just bash me on the head so I don’t have to deal with any of this, alright Mr. Incubus?”  


“Um, no, but…” Brahms gently put his hands over your shell-shocked form, releasing relaxing magic over your body, not understanding your sarcasm.  


You were asleep before you knew it.


	6. Succubi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brahms is watching you sleep, when an unexpected guest shows up.

Brahms curled up at the foot of your bed, unsure what to do. He wrapped his tail around himself a couple of times, and let his wings fold up against his back once more. He eyed you, gently touching your foot above the covers.  


He stared at your hair, hair he wanted to run his fingers through, and considered curling up in your soft arms before tucking up tighter, unsure what you would want from him.  


He knew you were mad about him trying to eat you out, which-in Brahms’s limited knowledge of humans not under the influence of magic-might have been a reasonable reaction. Brahms looked at the clock. It was four pm. He had knocked you out for the better part of three hours, and he realized he didn’t know when you wanted to wake up again.  


Brahms stood, getting off the bed, ignoring the pang of hunger that had been following him around for the better part of a month. He had actually eaten more in the last two days than he had in the last four weeks, though anyone else of his kind would scoff at how determined he had been to starve himself. Not to mention, a half-second of eating out didn’t exactly a meal make.  


What Brahms really wanted was to snap you awake, use any magic necessary to make you horny and have you ride him until he wasn’t hungry anymore. However, there was an issue, and a fairly big issue at that.  


He was in love with you.  


Brahms was in love with you, and so he didn’t want to do anything else to make you mad at him, or to make you scared. You had used the word ‘assault,’ which he didn’t completely understand, but you seemed upset by it, regardless.  


As if seriously offending a human who should’ve just been food wasn’t enough of a problem, there was a second, even more pressing matter.  


Incubus didn’t fall in love with their food. It just didn’t happen. Certain incubus and succubus were species purists, who would only have sex-and therefore feed off-their own kind. Greta, an old succubus friend of Brahms, was one of said purists, and was not happy with Brahms’s current obsession with a human.  


Brahms thought he had done a fairly good job of hiding how often he followed around you, and about how-in a pitiful attempt to be faithful to the human he loved-hadn’t had sex.  


However, starvation can mess with anyone’s perspective, and Brahms’s attempts at getting closer to a human were painfully obvious to anyone who cared to keep tabs on him. Fortunately, only one individual cared enough about Brahms to watch him. Unfortunately, the one who cared was said species purist.  


“Brahms.” A melodic voice floated into the room.  


Brahms stiffened, not taking his eyes off you, knowing nothing he could say would explain away why he was in this particular bedroom.  


“Brahms!” Greta stood directly behind Brahms’s crouching form, arms crossed, her magic crackling the air all around her in her anger.  


Greta, a succubus, had the same black scales that created patterns over her body, the same devil tail, and a voluptuous body designed to attract males. The only differences were that she didn’t have horns protruding from her eye like Brahms, but all around her neck, each only an inch long. Her silver eyes glared down the back of Brahms’s head, tail twitching in anger. Her wings flitted in irritation at finding her friend in this particular situation.  


“Hello, friend.” Brahms slowly turned to face Greta’s wrath. “You look well fed.”  


“I am.” Greta snapped. “You look like shit. I can barely feel your magic. And I know what you did last night.”  


Brahms feigned innocence, standing to lie to Greta’s face. “I ate last night. I know you’re against eating humans, but-.”  


“You ate this human’s fiancé, Brahms. This humans’s fiancé, with intent to get caught.” Greta grabbed Brahms’s arms, shaking him in frustration. “You purposely ate that Malcolm kid, making sure you got caught, to break off this human’s engagement.”  


Brahms shrugged out of her grip, sitting on the bed, wringing his tail in his hands. Greta felt herself deflate at the pitiful sight, anger turning to concern while looking at her old friend looking so nervous and weak. “I was just hungry.” Brahms lied.  


Greta put her hand on Brahms’s shoulder, the crackling in the air fading as her anger continued to ebb. “I told you to stop abusing your tail like that.” Greta mumbled softly, bringing her hands to Brahms’s chest and kneeling at his feet. “I know you weren’t ‘just hungry.’ Come back home with me, I’ll keep you fed, and it will be like this whole incident never happened.”  


Brahms leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder, her natural seductive magic weakening his resolve. Greta ran her hands down his back, Brahms shivering when Greta’s fingers gently stroked his wings.  


Greta turned her head, nuzzling his face in Brahms’s hair, whispering enticingly. “I’ll keep you fed. Come home with me.” Greta traced her fingers over his tail, making Brahms shiver again and move closer to her body. “Come home to me.”  


“I-.” Brahms started. Greta started to wrap her legs around Brahms, her sexual energy overpowering his underfed body. He wanted Greta, he wanted her so badly he had half a mind to take her then and there, when you groaned quietly in your sleep. Brahms jerked away from Greta, whirling around to look at you.  


Greta frowned. “You won’t last like this. You’re not in love with this human. You know what would happen if you were.”  


Brahms quivered slightly, the need to fuck overpowering, but the want of a chance with the human he had become so attached to persisted, overpowering his one instinct as an incubus.  


“Go away, please.” Brahms mumbled, gently brushing hair out of your face.  


Greta growled lowly, standing, the rage coming back all at once, humiliated at being rejected for a human. Brahms shook more intensely than before, Greta’s body looming over him and his weak human.  


“You’ll grow to regret this. Either the human accepts you and grows to resent the fact you can’t be faithful, or rejects you and you go insane from starvation. Either way, it’s all an act.” With those parting words, Greta disappeared.  


Brahms’s shaking finally ebbed, taking a deep breath as his self-control finally won out. He sighed heavily before turning back to you, finally lifting the sleeping spell he had put on you.  


You slowly blinked awake, looking more rested than you had in days. Until your eyes fell on Brahms, snapping into focus. You shouted in surprise, sitting bolt upright. Brahms shrunk away from you, trying to give your space.  


“Oh Jesus, it wasn’t a dream.” You grumbled, putting your hands over your eyes and sinking back down into your pillow.  


“Did you want me to leave?” Brahms asked, wringing his tail. “I can knock you out again and go away if you really hate me that much.”  


You lifted your hands from your face, looking at Brahms with tired eyes. “Why are you here?” You finally asked, scooting up into a sitting position.  


Brahms straightened up, his tail twitching. “Be… Because?”  


“You said that humans aren’t supposed to know about you, so why are you here?” You stood, walking past Brahms to the closet and pulling down the first shirt your hands touched. “Why are you here?”  


Brahms watched intensely as you peeled off your sleep shirt, wanting to touch your skin, his mouth salivating from hunger. “I am here because. Uh. I am here because…”  


You pulled the fresh shirt over your head, grabbing a pair of jeans from the closet next. “Because?” You prompted before slipping off your sleep pants.  


“I don’t want to tell you.” Brahms said meekly, standing and trying to slouch so his figure wasn’t so intimidating. “You’re food, I don’t have to explain anything to food.”  


You pulled on your pants, ignoring the obvious stare of the incubus, not bothering to feel embarrassed as he had already eaten you out, no matter how briefly he had. “Oh really? Then why are you still here?”  


“Uh.” The incubus replied yet again, stretching out what should have been a one syllable word into a ten second sound.  


Sighing heavily, you turned to him once properly dressed. “If you don’t tell me, then I must ask you to do whatever it is you are going to do, or leave. I get that you must be magic, so I know I’m in no position to threaten you, but I have to at least point out that for a man of your size and supposed power, you have no confidence whatsoever.”  


Brahms eyed the room, having stopped paying attention halfway through your rant, noticing piles of clothes everywhere and paper scattered about, not unlike in your office. He frowned at your lack of care, wanting to lecture you on the importance of living a healthy lifestyle. Not that Brahms understood precisely what that was for a human, but Brahms had disguised himself as a human and read many magazines about human living before ever making his first move on you.  


“You should clean up. And open a window.” Brahms stated matter-of-factly.  


You, who had been gearing up to start yelling, let out a long breath with no sound, simply dumbfounded by his words.  


“It’s winter.” You managed to say.  


Brahms looked down at you, tilting his head in confusion at your words. “But humans need fresh air.”  


You just stared at him for a moment, the heater turning on, filling the room with white noise. You lifted your hand, opened your mouth, closed your mouth, lowered your hand, somehow more confused now than you were before.  


“Ah, okay.” You pulled a pair of sleep pants out of your closet, one of the comfy pairs that were about four sizes too big for you, throwing it at Brahms’s chest. “Put that on, I’m going to eat.”  


Brahms looked at the pants in confusion before you brushed past him on your way to the kitchen. “How do I put it on?” He called after you. You sighed and turned around to face him.  


“You’ve never worn pants before?” You asked, walking back to him and taking the pants, holding them open. “Put your legs through the big hole, and then one leg goes in each smaller hole at the bottom. The tag back there means that that’s where your butt goes…” You chuckled softly, looking up at Brahms. “It feels weird explaining this to an adult.”  


Brahms slowly took the pants from you, carefully putting it on one leg at a time. It was slow and awkward, and when the pants were finally pulled up, they were about four inches too short, and his tail had nowhere to go, so the pants had to be pulled down much lower than what must have been comfortable so the tail could stick out.  


You sighed heavily, looking at the combination of the much too small pants, how low they had to be pulled down for the accommodation of his tail, and lastly, your eyes lingered on the muscular v that resided on his lower abdomen before turning away, walking to the kitchen.  


The kitchen was the only room in the loft that was kept neat and tidy, with everything in its place and every surface kept dusted and scrubbed as necessary. You didn’t mind chaos when it came to papers and books, but after a certain incident with ants, areas involving food were kept as pristine as possible.  


“Have you seriously never put on pants before?” You asked, pulling bread from the pantry.  


“Well…” Brahms trailed after you, his tail swishing and knocking into a bar stool. “When we disguise ourselves as humans, the clothes are just as much of an illusion as the person we’re pretending to be.”  


“Okay. So, I’m going to ask one more time, what are you doing here?” You slipped the bread in the toaster before getting a plate, surprisingly numb to the obscurity of the situation after getting some rest and realizing exactly how non-threatening this particular demon was.  


Brahms went quiet, grabbing his tail and biting the end of it nervously.  


You frowned and turned to him, ready to snap at him again. But when you looked at him, wearing pants about four sizes too small, biting his tail like anyone else would bite their nails, you felt guilt.  


The guilt only amplified when the toast popped out of the toaster and the incubus let out a surprised yelp, jumping back. His tail quickly whipped around in his surprise, knocking over the bar stool.  


“I’m sorry!” Brahms scowled to himself and kneeled down, propping up the bar stool again, almost dropping it again in his hurry to fix what he messed up.  


You steadied the stool before holding out your hand to help Brahms back up. “It’s okay. It’s just toast. It pops out like that.”  


Brahms looked up at you, his relief and disbelief at your patience both equal in measure, gently taking your hand, pulling himself up. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I’m actually smart in my world, I’m just very… out of my element right now.”  


You squeezed his hand slightly before turning to your toast and buttering it. “Why are you here?”  


“Please don’t be mad.” Brahms mumbled behind you.  


“I can’t promise that.” You focused on buttering your toast, wishing this were just a weird dream.  


“No, I mean, please. Don’t be mad.” The voice made you stiffen. That wasn’t the voice of the incubus. That was…  


You whipped around, Brahms standing in his kitchen. Brahms, flesh and blood Brahms, the man from your dreams, the man from the bar, Brahms, your Brahms, the man you had compared your fiancé to at every turn.  


“Brahms.” You managed.  


Brahms, handsome, perfect, human Brahms looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”  


You blinked, realizing what this meant. “The incubus. You’re an incubus. And you’ve been stalking me.”  


Brahms frowned. “I was just going to eat your energy in your sleep the first time we met, but when I entered your dream…we just talked. That.” He turned to the bar stool, resting his hand on it. “That just doesn’t happen. I was confused, so I kept coming back.”  


“Uh-huh.” You nodded slowly, stepping toward him, brushing his hand off the bar stool and sitting down, putting your face in your hands. “Huh.”  


“And, well, in your dreams, I realized that I… I liked you. I like touching your hair, and I liked talking to you, and just being around you, so last night I thought, maybe I could meet you as a human, but you’re engaged, and you seemed really confused, and then you told me you thought I was real and I panicked, so I ate your fiancé-!”  


“Wait.” You interrupted him, holing up your hand. “You ate Malcolm?”  


“Yes! I went to his party as a woman, and I had sex with him, making sure we got caught so that you could dump him!” Brahms turned back into his incubus form, immediately wringing his tail harder than before. “I thought it would make you happy.”  


You slowly lifted your head, looking up at him, full of too many emotions at once. You let your eyes follow his scales, following the pattern, following the slight changes in color, looking at his inky black hair. He broke off your engagement. This was him. The man you had secretly been comparing every other man to for months.  


This was him.  


“And when you tried to eat me out? Are you always watching me?” You mumbled.  


Brahms frowned slightly. “Usually just when you sleep. I enter your dreams, but I was following you today because I wanted to see your reaction when you realized you were free.”  


“And you said you were hungry?” You asked.  


Brahms nodded slightly, tugging on his tail. You frowned, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.  


“Stop that!” You snapped. Brahms instantly stopped, frowning to himself for once again upsetting you. “Are you always this skittish around humans?” You asked.  


“No!” Brahms frowned more. “Having sex with a human is a lot different from…admitting that you like one.”  


You looked Brahms up and down, taking his body in. He looked a lot different than human-Brahms. Brahms’s incubus hair was luxurious and black, his hair so full it almost looked fake. His one eye was crimson, and all of his features were sharp and intense.  
Incubus-Brahms’s body was taller and more muscular than human-Brahms’s. Human-Brahms’s body was more toned, and while he was still tall, incubus-Brahms was bordering on biblical in his height. If it weren’t for his surprisingly skittish mature, incubus-Brahms would be entirely terrifying. However, somehow, he was every bit as handsome now as he had been as human-Brahms, only now he had a much more fantastical look.  


“So, you’re hungry?” You repeated, noticing how Brahms’s pants seemed full in the crotch.  


Brahms just nodded slightly, holding back how he hadn’t eaten anyone but your fiancé in a month. He already feared you would kick him out, he didn’t need to give you any more information that you didn’t need.  


You stared at him. Looking over his face, trying to find the Brahms you knew in it, trying to take in that all of this was happening.  


“So, when you tried to eat me out earlier…” You started slowly.  


“I’m sorry!” Brahms said, wanting with all his heart to run his fingers through your hair, as he had so many times before. But before he was a different person, before you had wanted him as someone he pretended to be. Before he messed up by getting too close to what he wanted. “I will not do it again!”  


You chuckled tiredly, shaking your head. Your toast would be cold now, you realized. A silly realization in the moment, but the mind jumps around, especially when stuck in situations beyond what one knows how to deal with.  


You reached for your toast, taking a bite. The butter had hardened as it cooled. You chewed, suddenly becoming a bit conscious by how loud it sounded in the quiet apartment, with no other sounds but the heater running and Brahms’s panicked breathing. You continued to eat the toast, even if it had gone cold, a bit relieved to have something to do with your hands, and something to keep you from asking any more questions.  


Finally, you ate the last bite, still chewing as you grabbed the plate, rinsing it in the sink before bending down and resting it in its place in the dishwasher. You finally swallowed the last bite, wanting to eat something else just for the distraction that came with it.  


Turning to your guest, you looked at the demon in your kitchen. He was sexy as hell. If you had seen him on the street, you’d assume he was either some sort of goth or David Bowie enthusiast. No matter how strange a sight he might seem, between his height and his phantasmal features, you might want to talk to him, try to get his number. Why wouldn’t you? He looked like a good time. And an honest to god sex demon would for sure be a good time.  


However, you weren’t looking for just a good time. You were looking at the person you had slowly learned to look forward to seeing, the man who made sleep not seem like a waste of time, but something you welcomed. The man you had slowly fallen for, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it.  


The man, no, the demon who had lied to you. The demon who had deceived you, who had taken on an entirely new identity to fool you. He had made you doubt your own sanity, broke off your engagement, who had basically been stalking you.  


You sighed. “Why me?” You finally asked.  


Brahms blinked in surprise, moving to grab his tail but quickly balled his hands into fists instead. “Why I follow you?”  


“Yes.” You sat back on the bar stool, watching him expectantly.  


Brahms looked down, focusing on his balled-up hands. “Because I liked talking to you. I liked being the person you complain to. I just like you. I just do.”  


You looked at Brahms for a moment before slowly standing, walking over to him. Brahms clenched his hands harder, never having felt anything close to anxiety over a crush before and having zero idea of how to deal with it.  


You gently brought your hands to his cheeks, running your thumbs over the tiny scales that just barely covered his cheek bones. Brahms chuckled in surprise, the gesture tickling. You couldn’t help but smile at that.  


“I’ll feed you.” You finally said.


	7. Feeding Brahms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feed Brahms.

“I’ll feed you.” You finally said.  


Brahms’s eyes widened, and his tail started swishing excitedly. “Really?”  


You simply nodded, getting up on your tip-toes and kissing him softly. You frowned slightly when Brahms didn’t kiss back. You pulled away to see Brahms blushing so darkly his cheeks were as red as his eye.  


“Don’t you want me to?” You asked.  


“I do!” Brahms blurted out. “It’s just, kissing is a human thing.”  


You chuckled, pulling yourself up and sitting on the counter. “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it. For now, let’s just have fun.”  


Brahms smiled softly and leaned down, kissing your collar bone before trying to slip out of his pants. It took a few attempts, and Brahms had to lean on the counter for balance at one point, but finally the pants were around his ankles. You smiled at his awkwardness as he kicked the pants out of the way.  


Brahms looked down at you and laughed sheepishly, running his hand through her hair. “Don’t get too cocky. We’re heading into my territory now.”  


“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You smiled before Brahms picked you up and set you on the counter, pulling off your pants effortlessly, making you gasp in surprise. Brahms chuckled and kissed your clit before licking it roughly. You started running your fingers through his hair in response, smiling slightly.  


“You can’t dress yourself, but you can undress me?” You teased.  


Brahms laughed. “Undressing someone is a lot different than dressing yourself.”  


“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” You smirked as the gentle fingers in Brahms’s hair quickly turned into hot tugging, pulling him closer to your heat.  


Brahms’s eyes glimmered with mischief, obediently getting to work with his tongue, moving it back up to circle your clit. He looked up at you, carefully watching your facial expressions to gauge how to pleasure you best.  


Your eyes were closed, your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, and you were biting your thumbnail, and you were surprisingly silent.  


Brahms frowned slightly, taking your silence as a challenge. He moved down to your folds, rubbing your clit with his thumb, moving his tongue in different patterns, watching you for your reaction. Your lip quivered in pleasure, but still no sound escaped.  


Growling against you, Brahms let you push him closer to your pussy. He grabbed and squeezed your thighs roughly, and finally, you let out an audible gasp, and Brahms felt arousal and pride swell in his chest.  


You whined softly, getting wetter and grinding onto Brahms’s face, disregarding the pleasantries of gentleness, riding out your climax. You shivered as the waves of pleasure washed over you, having not had a partner in months, your body wanting release.  


Your fingers clenched, pulling at Brahms’s hair painfully as your body stiffened as you orgasmed. Brahms didn’t take his tongue off your sex until your quivering finally ebbed.  


Brahms watched you shiver, smirking to himself. He had just made you cum, and that felt like more of an achievement than any other human he’d brought to orgasm.  


You cupped his face and pulled him up to meet your gaze, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his now-erect penis rub against your wet pussy. You giggled and grinded on him for a bit, savoring his hunger-filled gasps before pulling your shirt over your head and snapping off your bra.  


Brahms smirked and laughed slightly before tugging at your hair playfully. “I’m a demon, you know. You shouldn’t tease me.” He nipped at your ear, slowly thrusting into you. “I’ll make you regret it.” He mumbled lowly, making you shiver. His cock was huge and long, and it felt as if it had been made for you. It fit perfectly, stretching you without hurting. Vaguely, you wondered if it had something to do with his sex magic, but your need for friction quickly stopped you from thinking any harder on it.  


You started moving your hips against his, tightening your pussy for him, making him groan. Your fingers stayed his in hair, tugging at it, as Brahms’s hands made their way to your ass. He picked you up off the bar, and your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust up into you, letting his arms and gravity do the work.  


You buried your face in Brahms’s neck, your hot breath setting Brahms’s skin on fire with every exhale. He wanted to make love to you forever, but he felt your inner walls start to clench, you were nearing the end, he knew it was coming.  


Brahms moaned, bucking his hips rougher with every thrust, becoming satisfied for the first time in weeks. His tail wrapped around your forearm, just another part of him wanting to get as close to you as possible.  


Your mind grew fuzzy, his demon cock bigger than anything you had even used on yourself, much less any of your past lovers’. You ran your hands over every part of his body you could touch, his body heat seeming to increase the longer you fucked. His skin was hot and comforting, like an electric blanket. You clung to him tightly, trying to touch every part of him you could.  


Brahms’s thrusts became more erratic as he pushed you up against a wall, feeling that you were only moments away from nearing the end with him. You nipped and sucked on his neck, wanting to leave your mark on him, wanting this moment to last on his skin. You cried out his name in pleasure as you came, you toes curling and your nails dragging down his back.  


Brahms thrust up harder, harder, until he came inside you, hissing out curses in pleasure, wings unfurling and twitching, nearly lifting you both off the ground.  


He panted softly, gently setting you on the ground, and you cupped his cheeks and giggled, kissing his forehead.  


“You were magnificent.” You smiled up at him.  


“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” Brahms smiled back, picking up your shirt and handing it to you. You folded it over the bar stool before turning back to him.  


“Not at all! The best sex I’ve had in a long time, maybe ever.” You smiled, causing Brahms’s tail to swish happily behind him. “We should probably shower.”  


Brahms nodded and picked you back up, which you welcomed, resting your head on his shoulder. You squeezed your legs together, not wanting to get the floor dirty with Brahms’s cum, when a rather important thought drifted through your head.  


“Should you…have used protection?” You asked, suddenly very nervous.  


Brahms laughed, tucking his wings up against his back as he walked you to the bathroom. “No. I can’t get you pregnant.”  


“What about STDs?” You asked slowly, now that the moment was over suddenly hyper aware of how many sexual partners Brahms must have had just to stay alive.  


Brahms shook his head. “We can smell them, but if we did have sex with someone with an STD, we can’t contract anything.”  


“Sounds like you have a good gig. Having unprotected sex to your heart’s content with no repercussions.” Brahms set you down so you could start the water, ready to clean off. You made a move to step in before noticing the silence that came from your companion.  


You turned to Brahms, and he was wringing his tail like a damp washcloth. You frowned but decided against chastising him for it when you saw his face.  


“It’s true it sounds good, especially in your world, where sex has been demonized-so to speak.” Brahms gave a sad half-smile before shrugging. “Living to fuck isn’t exactly fun. Sometimes you don’t feel like it, and sometimes-.” Brahms looked away for a moment before brushing past you, stepping into the hot water, his back to you. “It’s really rare for an incubus to fall in love. We really don’t. Maybe two will decide to have sex with each other more than others, or maybe they have a really deep friendship, but the reality of the situation is, there are some who don’t think my kind can fall in love at all. There’s something that is supposed to happen if something like me actually falls in love, and it hasn’t happened, so…”  


You stepped in after him, watching the droplets of water pooling in the folds of his wings, and drip down the scaley parts of his skin. “I honestly don’t think you love me.” You finally said. Your words made him jerk slightly, and the water that had pooled in his wings splashed the walls. “I don’t think I love you either. I mean, I didn’t believe you were real until today. And now you’re something I’m still having trouble believing in.”  


Brahms stood still for a moment, before finally saying in a small voice. “Sorry, I bet you want the water now, huh?”  


He scooted past you, to the back of the shower, forcing you forward into the water. You sighed, grabbed the soap, and started cleaning yourself. You knew Brahms was probably holding his tail again, and you decided not to look. It looked like he was trying to strangle a snake when he did that.  


“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” You said softly, looking up at the shower head, feeling the hot water that reminded you of Brahms’s warm skin only moments before. “I just mean, we didn’t exactly start off right. I did like human-you, almost wondered if I loved him. But you’re not him.”  


“I am.” Brahms mumbled.  


“You were lying. That’s not exactly how humans like to start relationships.” You took a moment to force yourself to let the tension drop from your body, very aware of how much you had been holding lately. “But I do appreciate you breaking off my engagement. And I think I could like you, if I could get to know you like I’m supposed to.”  


Brahms perked up slightly, turning to look at you. “Really?”  


You looked back at him, smiling slightly at the memories of your dreams. “I think so.”  


Brahms hugged you suddenly, and very tightly, even wrapping his tail around you. He knocked the breath out of you, but he continued to hold you. You pat his back, trying to get him to slack off, and when he finally did pull away, he had on a smile so bright it could blind a man.  


“Thank you.” He grinned happily, pulling you into another gripping hug.  


You chuckled nervously, petting his hair and wondering what exactly you got yourself in to.


	8. Living Room

Brahms sat curled up on the couch like a cat, his wings tucked up against his back and tail curled around his body. You had gone to work, and he had decided against going with you, namely because you insisted Brahms not follow you while invisible anymore. He was okay with this arrangement, as he was already hungry again, and the hunger was almost worse after finally eating one meal after a month of nothing.  


He debated going to some sex-based hole in the wall where gross people tended to hang out, as they were typically the easiest to seduce. They were the incubus equivalent of fast food; something you go to for an easy meal and then immediately feel bad about yourself after eating it.  


Brahms also was somewhat worried what your reaction would be to his eating someone other than you, though the night before you had barely talked about what exactly this new arrangement was going to entail. Surely, you understood that he could never be faithful. It wasn’t something Brahms was eager to talk about, so he had just assumed you would know he would need to eat many other people to survive.  


The human ways of going about sex were very odd, as it was something their media shoved down their throats but was still highly stigmatized. Brahms was beginning to understand how humans could be so miserable when it came to relationships and sex, as he was indeed, currently, miserable.  


There wasn’t much to do at this place, so Brahms got ready to fly out and do something to bide his time. He stretched his arms over his head, wings unfurling, when he felt familiar hot breath on his neck.  


“It’s cute how your wings twitch when you stretch.” Greta mumbled in his ear.  


Brahms sighed and turned to face the succubus. “What do you want? I don’t want any more lectures.”  


Greta sighed and shook her head, her piercing silver eyes looking uncharacteristically tired. “I was just going to say, I’m glad you ate. But you’ve been with the human now, so, just come home. The human can’t have been good enough to want you to stay here.” Greta gestured at the messy loft, distain clear in her voice.  


Brahms frowned. “They might not be a sex demon, but it was good, and I want to see how this plays out.”  


Greta sat on the couch, expertly sliding into Brahms’s lap. Brahms simply gave her a blank look as Greta wrapped her tail around his waist, her body heat warming him in ways only a succubus could.  


“You think you’re the first of us who thought you could love a human?” Greta ran her hands through his hair, Brahms feeling the warmth of her fingertips on his scalp, making him want to push more of her body onto him, to absorb the tantalizing heat.  


Brahms knew his body was having the same effect on Greta, as this was the kind of heat only two of their kind could feel together. It was one of the reasons some purists refused to feed off humans at all; it was always better for the human than the demon.  


“I know I’m not the first.” Brahms mumbled, resting his head on Greta’s shoulder without thinking. They had always been able to touch casually-the two of them had even fed off of each other many times-but Brahms suddenly felt like it was wrong to do. He pulled back from her slightly. “But I have to try.”  


Greta nipped his ear, making him shiver in want, knowing his hunger and wanting to quench it. “You’ll crash and burn if you continue like this. Incubus, succubus, we don’t have love, only obsession. If you continue like this, lying to yourself, starving yourself, you’ll just end up killing that human.”  


Brahms pulled away from her, frowning deeply at his old friend. He gently pushed her off of his lap then stood, his eye that was only moments ago glazed in lust now sharp and determined. “Then I’ll burn.”  


Greta sat there stunned for a moment. “It’s a human. There’s nothing special about humans. Why?”  


Brahms clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. “It’s none of your business.”  


Greta sighed, free of emotions like anger or sadness, now only feeling tired for her friend’s irritating choices. She stood, crossing her arms, wings spreading in a show of dominance, no matter how much shorter Greta was than Brahms. She grazed his cheek with her fingers, leaving trails of electric heat on Brahms’s skin.  


“I’ll be there when you crawl back to hell, sobbing over the fact that you killed your pet.” Greta turned and was gone, leaving Brahms all alone in the apartment of a human, in a world he knew nothing about living in.  


“I’ll be fine.” He whispered to the room. But the room did not answer. It was empty, and he was alone, a demon fighting his nature for reasons he didn’t want to admit even to an old friend.


	9. A Phone Call and a Threat

You looked at your phone, debating calling Malcolm. It had been, albeit indirectly, your fault that a recording of him having sex had gone viral. You figured you couldn’t tell your ex-betrothed the truth, but you figured perhaps a sincere phone call might help him through this embarrassing time, assuming that being caught having sex with a beautiful woman would be embarrassing to someone Malcolm’s age, and not, in fact, something on his bucket list.  


You braced yourself, somewhere between feeling guilty and still incredibly relieved you didn’t have to marry the boy you were calling. You brought the phone up to you ear, wondering with increasing intensity if it was too late to hang up, when Malcolm answered.  


“New phone, who dis?” He said.  


“I-it’s me. Fiancé. The fiancé. ” You pinched the bridge of your nose at your own response.  


It’s me, fiancé, the fiancé? Seriously?  


“Oh, hey.” Malcolm replied. “How’s things since the divorce?”  


“What?” You asked, now both irritated with yourself and confused at Malcolm.  


Malcolm laughed on the other line. “Messing with you. You know, asking about the divorce seeing as you’re now single.”  


You made a face, simply replying with, “Ah.”  


“So, what did you call about?” Malcolm asked. “You’ve literally never called me before. I didn’t even have your number saved.”  


“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You replied honestly. “I mean, after that video went viral-.”  


You were interrupted by laughter from the other line.  


“I know, right? So crazy how that worked out. But you forget, my parents come from old money.” Malcolm continued to laugh. “People eat that shit up, especially since I’m kind of rich-famous, you know?”  


“Not following.” You frowned, confused.  


“So a sex tape, bad for some stupid high schooler somewhere. Not bad for someone like me. Best case I get on some sort of talk show and become famous because I’m just that handsome. Worst case I become a meme, which wouldn’t actually be that bad. Middle case, nothing comes from this and it blows over after a month.” The sounds of some shooting game bled through the receiver.  


Malcolm sat on a couch in his room, the blinds closed and a blanket over his head, his phone on a speaker next to him. “People love scandal, especially when it involves rich people embarrassing themselves, so, its whatever.”  


“So, you’re okay?” You said dumbly.  


“Very. That chick was super hot, so people on the internet are debating if she was like a model or something. And I get a on a talk show, probably. Win-win.” Malcolm shrugged half-assedly, the tone of his voice and his words not exactly matching in enthusiasm, however you didn’t notice.  


“Probably?” You asked, resting your head on your hand, already tired from trying to follow his logic.  


“I’m making it happen, man. I’m not going to be one of those semi-celebrity-rich-kids that gets humiliated and gets nothing from it. If I don’t get some sort of famous for this, then, god I don’t know, I guess I’ll just go on with my life. Either or.”  


You barked out a laugh. “So, either you’ll somehow get famous for a sex tape or… not? That’s your plan? Really?”  


“Yes really, gotta know all your options. Did you call me just to give me a lecture?” Malcolm teased.  


You breathed out, closing your eyes. Finally, you chuckled softly and smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”  


Malcolm went uncharacteristically quiet on his end, before he finally spoke. “Thanks. It is embarrassing. I know that most people would think that, you know, a guy wouldn’t be embarrassed by something like this but, it’s not like I wanted to get caught. Mom and dad are pissed. Your dad even called me and yelled at me.”  


“He did?” You snapped, appalled at you father’s actions. “I am so sorry for him, he’s a dick.”  


“Yeah, well.” Malcolm gave a fake laugh. “Thanks for worrying about me. It makes me feel better.”  


“I’m glad.” You said softly, suddenly feeling almost protective of him.  


“But if I don’t turn this in my favor I’ll just be another asshole with a sex tape, you know? And no one wants to be that guy.” The shooting on his line stopped as he paused his game. “So, I’m weighing my options.”  


“That’s very mature of you, but, it sounds like you don’t really have that many options lined up.” You commented, feeling guiltier than before, but still unable to confess that you were at all at fault for his embarrassment. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”  


“You’re the coolest ex ever. Thanks. I gotta go, but, thanks.” Malcolm hung up, not waiting for a reply.  


You looked at your phone in surprise, not expecting him to hang up so suddenly, and feeling worse and worse. You almost searched the contacts in your phone for Brahms to chew him out for intentionally humiliating Malcolm, before realizing Brahms didn’t have a phone. Or, if he did, it was a demon phone that you didn’t have a number to.  


You almost considered dialing 666 and seeing what happens, but decided that since you was now fully aware that demons did, in fact, exist, you didn’t want to accidentally dial Satan himself. Or something like that.  


You were in over your head. You knew that much at least. You made a mental note to chastise Brahms when you got home, if he was still there. You missed the days when you thought you were crazy for being in love with a man from a dream. How young and naïve you had been a mere three days ago.  


You were about to get back to work, opening you email on your desktop, ready to let yourself fall into you work for a few hours when there was a knock on his door.  


“Come in.” You called distractedly, already scanning your emails for anything that might be pressing.  


Kevin opened the door and popped his head in. “Do you have a minute?”  


You nodded and stood, walking around your desk and leaning on it. “Sure, what’s up?”  


Kevin stepped in, closing the door behind him. “There’s kind of a big man here to see you.”  


You raised an eyebrow. “As in, a big deal kind of man?”  


Kevin half-shrugged. “I mean, I guess he could be a big deal money-wise, I didn’t ask. I mean, he’s freaking huge. He’s tall as hell. Like the world’s most handsome palm tree.”  


You decided to let that last comment slide and just nodded. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone today. Did he give you a name?”  


Kevin nodded. “He said he was Eric Straker and he was here to talk to you about Brahms.”  


You felt your insides freeze.  


Another demon? You thought to yourself, wiping your palms on your pants.  


“Okay.” You finally said, running your hands through your hair, trying to maintain your composure. “Send him in, I guess.”  


“He’s so tall.” Kevin hissed, walking to the door, looking equal parts scared and in love. “He could clean the gutters of a small house just by reaching up!”  


“I get it!” You snapped.  


“Be prepared to have your day become sexuality charged.” Kevin whispered before opening the door and walking out, calling to the stranger that it was okay to go inside.  


You tried to smooth out the wrinkles in your shirt quickly, wanting to look as professional as possible before your unwanted guest came into your office. However, you were too slow, and ‘Eric’ walked inside, ducking under the doorway and witnessing you fussing over your clothes like a nervous schoolgirl.  


The man was incredibly tall, standing at about seven feet. He had jet black hair that was the same color and fullness as Brahms’s, slicked back. He had muscles that strained under his shirt and eyes of grey. His eyes fell on you, and you felt true fear in that moment, feeling the man cutting you with his gaze.  


The man, Eric, closed the door behind him, looking down at you with disdain.  


“This is what he lowers himself for?” Eric’s voice was spoken softly, but had authority in it that resonated through the room. He took a step toward you.  


You frowned and fixed you posture, crossing your arms and meeting Eric’s gaze. “You obviously didn’t try very hard with your disguise. You don’t exactly pass as human.”  


Eric chuckled and let the glamor fall, his clothes disappearing, his tail growing, and his skin littered with scales that reminded you of oil on water. Only now he was a female, still much taller than you, and still just as intimidating. She was, just as Brahms was, naked. “I didn’t come here to trick anyone.”  


You frowned, focusing on meeting ‘Eric’s’ gaze, not interested in seeing a naked person in your office; demon or otherwise. “I’m assuming you know Brahms?” You asked.  


“A fair guess.” The succubus said. “I am Greta, Brahms’s friend. And I came to see exactly what he sees in a weak human like you.”  


You frowned more deeply at the insult, but knew that when it came down to it, you couldn’t argue your strength against a demon. So, you decided to roll with the insult instead.  


“It must be my fantastic personality.” You sat on your desk, holding up you palms in a lazy shrug. “What do you want from me, Greta?”  


Greta took a step forward, her weight leaving indents of her feet on the carpet. “I want my friend back. You’re killing him. By letting him stay here he grows weaker; trying to stay faithful will starve him to death. Unless he goes mad and fucks you to death instead.”  


You stiffened at the threat as the succubus in front of you got ever closer. “I never asked him to be faithful.”  


“Oh, but you didn’t ask him to leave, either?” Greta glared down at the human in front of her, wanting nothing more to strangle you to death with her bare hands and be done with it. “You humans think you’re so special when one of us fucks you. I don’t know what’s going through your head, and I don’t care. Tell Brahms you want him to leave and never come back and that will be the end of it.”  


You stood, meeting Greta toe to toe, trying to ignore how you had to look up to meet the demon’s eyes, refusing to let this stranger tell you what to do. “I don’t want him to leave. I like him.”  


Greta growled, the sound so low and primitive you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Greta clenched you fists, using every last shred of will power to keep from killing the human in front of her. “Either he snaps and fucks you to death, or he starves, and I fuck you to death. And just so you know-.”  


Greta grew, her body shifting until she was seven feet tall, now a male, his features as sharp and intimidating as before, only now he had a dick that you saw was already huge, and Greta wasn’t even hard.  


“I can fuck you to death in literally any form I want to, just depending on how much pain I want you in.” Greta smirked cruelly before shifting back into her female form. “I’ve done you a favor, coming here. It’s not as fun a way to die as you might hope it is.”  


“Get out of my office.” You snapped. “What happens to us isn’t up to you.”  


Greta took a step back, a smirk playing on her lips. “We’ll see how long you last, human.”  


Greta turned, her barely-human male façade once again forming over her real body, before opening the door to the office and meandering out. You let out a deep breath, feeling adrenaline pumping through your arms, making them almost feel numb. You sank to the ground, limbs shaking, reminding you yet again you had no idea what you were doing.


	10. Shirts

You stood just inside your loft, trying to see from your vantage point if Brahms was still in your home. You didn’t see him, but of course there was more to your place than just the doorway.  


“Brahms?” You called, half-hoping he wouldn’t reply.  


A squeak came from your bedroom, followed by a loud thud. You raised an eyebrow before going into your room, finding Brahms on the floor, tangled in one of your sleep shirts.  


“Oh, hi!” He blurted, trying to quickly shrug out of the shirt before phasing out of it, using the same magic to escape the cloth as he used to walk through walls. He quickly stood, his wings flittering nervously and making him float while he attempted to look casual. “How was your day?”  


You watched as Brahms’s feet once again touched the ground as he got control of his wings. He then leaned on the wall casually, as if he hadn’t just been caught in a shirt like a cat in yarn. And finally, you laughed.  


Brahms blushed darkly as you laughed so hard you had to lean on the door frame for support, nearly sinking to your knees but catching yourself. It was the kind of laughter that hurt your sides and eventually came out in wheezes instead of sounds. You held up your hand to Brahms, indicating with your index finger to give you a minute, all the while Brahms frowned and crossed his arms, glaring you down.  


“S-sorry!” You continued to gasp, catching your breath, pushing yourself off the door frame and walking toward him, cupping his face in your hands. “Don’t be mad, please. I just thought that was cute.”  


Brahms continued to frown and looked at the closet. “I told you before, I’m smart in my world.”  


You smiled softly, feeling the same romantic affection for Brahms as you had felt for the man from your dreams, the same joy at dreaming of him and having him ask how your day was. You were in love with Brahms. It was something that you hadn’t wanted to admit when Brahms was just some embarrassing imaginary friend. But, at least knowing that he was in any way real, you could admit it to yourself. Finally, you could admit you had fallen in love with Brahms.  


What you didn’t want to think about was your relationship with Brahms, especially not after Greta’s earlier threat.  


Was Brahms the man of your dreams? Yes. But Brahms was also a lie. Brahms-the real him-was so timid and anxious; his vibe was entirely different from the man you had fallen in love with.  


However, to be fair, Brahms was stuck in a different culture he knew very little about, that would explain why his confidence seemed so much lower than usual, why he was jumpier.  


Before he had been confident, but he had also been in his element. He had just tried to find love in the only way he understood how.  


You looked at Brahms, who was still glaring daggers at you as your laughing fit wrapped up. You wanted him to relax, that much you knew. So, to avoid having to think about all the things you weren’t sure about, you instead focused on fulfilling the one task you were sure you wanted to do.  


“I know you’re smart.” You kissed his cheek and smiled. “Darling.”  


Brahms’s face instantly dropped the scowl and instead turned as red as his eye. “D-damn straight you know. I was just trying on clothes for fun.”  


You pulled him into a hug, resting your head on his chest. “I can show you properly sometime.”  


Brahms let his chin rest on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. Every human had a different smell, a smell even more predominant to sex demons than even other humans could smell. You smelled like ginger root and rain. Brahms had never bothered to notice the smells of his meals before, but he loved your smell, and he was happy that all of your apartment smelled the same as you.  


Brahms was surprised by your sudden affection, but he didn’t want to question it, not in this moment. Not when everything he had wanted seemed so obtainable.  


“I can just be human if you prefer.” He offered.  


You stiffened for a moment, the temptation from the offer nearly overwhelming. After a second of pondering you shook your head, running your hand over the folds of his wings. “It would still be you. That’s the whole point.”  


“I thought you weren’t sure about me.” Brahms whispered into your hair.  


“Well, I’m not, but now the cat’s out of the bag, you know? I’ll always know that it’s you.” You pulled back, running your fingers through Brahms’s impossibly thick hair. “But laughing like that made me realize how much happier I am when I’m with you. I loved being around the first version of you, but seeing how clumsy the real you is, is pretty hilarious.”  


“It’s just because of my physical form!’” Brahms frowned, but his tail wrapped around your leg, giving away just how happy he truly was.  


The two of you stood there for a moment, the both of you taking turns chuckling to yourselves.  


“Have you eaten today?” You asked, sobering up.  


Brahms stiffened. “I was going to, but, I was afraid.” His tail loosened from your limb, Brahms fearing where this conversation was going.  


“Afraid?” You repeated, wondering if the Greta demon had visited him as well.  


“I know humans care about faithfulness…” Brahms trailed off, not realizing in his very limited knowledge of relationships, that the two of you had never even officially become a couple.  


“Well, you need to eat.” You stated simply. “You can’t help that.”  


Brahms clutched his tail in his hands, looking down at you. “What if you hate me for it?”  


You looked up at Brahms, the unpleasantness of Greta’s threats still fresh in your mind. You wouldn’t admit it, but there was a grain of spite in your newfound affection for the incubus. You weren’t the kind of person who was going to take a threat lying down, and if that meant making a relationship with a sex demon work, then so be it. You didn’t get to where you were by being a pushover, no matter how many bitter people in the company insisted you had gotten your job because of you father, you had earned everything you had in your life. So, you might have had a bit of a spiteful streak.  


“I won’t.” You took his hands in yours. “I’ll feed you tonight, and as much as I can, but anything else you can’t get from me, you should get from someone else. It’s fine.”  


Brahms’s face lit up, becoming more handsome now that he had a genuine smile on his face. You felt yourself blushing, practically able to smell the pheromones radiating off him. Brahms pulled you into a tight hug, even wrapping his tail around you in joy. You laughed softly and held him in your arms, his joy making you feel refreshed after a long day.  


“Do you want to help me cook dinner?” You murmured into his neck.  


He pulled back and chuckled nervously. “I’ve never cooked before.”  


Taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen, you replied, “I’ll teach you.”  


Brahms nervously watched as you got out a few ingredients, knowing that he would once again make a fool of himself because he didn’t understand the workings of the human world.  


You looked back at him and held out two pieces of bread. “Can you put these in the toaster for me?”  


Brahms’s eyes widened, remembering what you had done just yesterday, and feeling hope that maybe he could do this simple task without feeling like a fumbling child yet again. “I can do that!”  


Brahms took the bread and walked to the little silver machine, slipping the bread in the slots. After that he nervously watched the toaster, feeling as though he had forgotten a step.  


You had been watching over his shoulder, noting that he put the bread in top side down, but didn’t feel the need to correct him as that wouldn’t affect the toast. However, he had forgotten to push the side lever down. You quietly reached over his shoulder and did so for him.  


“Oh.” He said quietly.  


You kissed his cheek. “It’s fine.”  


Brahms looked at the toaster intensely as you turned back to your task, which was to make scrambled eggs. Usually, you weren’t a breakfast for dinner sort of person, but you figured that this would be the easiest meal to teach Brahms. “Watch me crack these eggs, okay?”  


Brahms turned away from the toaster. “Alright.”  


You started showing him how to crack eggs when the doorbell rang, surprising you and making you drop egg shell in the pan.  


“Damn.” You snapped, picking out the egg shell. “Who the hell…?”  


You turned to look at Brahms, but he was gone. “Oh no. No, no!”  


Egg whites on your fingers be damned, you ran to the front door, scared that Brahms had gone to open it. It was still, thankfully, shut, and you opened it quickly, scared to see Brahms on the other side of it confusing the would-be guest.  


But no, no demon was on the other side of the door. Just Malcolm.


	11. A Guest

Brahms watched quietly from the ceiling, invisible and floating. Your old fiancé was in the apartment.  


Brahms felt a twinge of jealously as you invited the young man in, taking him to the kitchen and washing your hands of the egg. The ex, Malcolm, whom Brahms had gotten to know intimately for the span of a few hours in a single night, leaned on the counter. Malcolm’s eyes looked tired, and his hair looked disheveled.  


Brahms knew it wasn’t right to feel jealousy, considering what he was, but he couldn’t help it. It burned in his chest, jealousy he had never before felt, and didn’t know how to deal with. Brahms had worked to get Malcolm out of your life, and yet here he was again.  


It hurt, the jealousy hurt. He was so hungry. That hurt too. Everything hurt, why did it have to hurt?  


Brahms needed to eat, and fast. He willed a wormhole back to his dimension and went through it, going to see the one friend he always trusted, even if she had been so against Brahms’s life choices as of late.  
*  
*  
*  


The toast popped back up, and Malcolm jumped. You couldn’t help but chuckle as Malcolm glowered childishly.  


“It’s not funny!” He snapped.  


You started buttering the toast, neglecting the eggs. Which was fine, as you hadn’t turned the heat on for them yet.  


“It was pretty funny. So, why are you here?” You asked, handing Malcolm a piece.  


Malcolm took the toast hesitantly, munching on it, avoiding eye contact as he looked around your place from his vantage point.  


“Malcolm?” You frowned, touching his shoulder.  


Malcolm finished his toast, brushing the crumbs off his hands onto the floor. The action immediately irritated you, but you reminded yourself that you were responsible for Malcolm’s sex tape. So, you literally bit your tongue to keep from snapping about his poor table manners.  


“I’ve been trying to get things in order, trying to just ignore how fucking embarrassed I am. I was playing video games earlier, but my parents burst in and so I left. I went to a bar, but my card got declined.” Malcolm pulled out his phone, moving it from hand to hand. “All my friends have been joking about it, from the sex tape to the fact that I might be disowned or something now, and everyone else is mad at me. I didn’t know where to go.”  


You kneeled down on the floor, brushing the fallen crumbs into your hands, making Malcolm back into a bar stool with uncharacteristic awkwardness.  


“I didn’t know you knew my address.” You stood, brushing the crumbs into the trash.  


“Your dad sent it to me at one point.” Malcolm replied, sitting on the stool. “Are you busy? Do you want to do something? Like drink? Or…other stuff, I guess.”  


You looked around your loft, worrying about Brahms’s whereabouts. The last thing you wanted was Brahms doing something else to Malcolm. Silently, you prayed that Brahms at least knew how to read the room.  


“Like what?” You asked, turning to the stove and finally starting the eggs.  


“I don’t know.” Malcolm mumbled, looking at his phone. “I don’t normally try to avoid people, so.”  


“I meant, like what do you want to drink.” You raised an eyebrow. “And you assume I’m a shut in who knows how to be without people?”  


“Yes.” Malcolm replied, twirling on the bar stool. “That’s what you were doing before I got here, right?”  


“For your information, I was just…” You trailed off. You looked back at Malcolm, who was looking at you expectantly. You bit your tongue to keep a dumb sounding ‘uh’ from escaping your mouth. “I’m expecting my boyfriend tonight, actually.”  


Malcolm laughed. “Oh yeah? You got a boyfriend in the span of a day?” His face quickly turned more serious. “Unless you were dating while we were engaged.”  


“If he and I were together, you have no right to get pissed off considering you got video-taped fucking someone you didn’t even know at a party.” You snapped, the anger coming from a place of embarrassment at his correct assumption of your dead social life.  


Malcolm looked away, frowning deeply, crossing his arms. “I couldn’t help it.” He mumbled.  


Snorting, you slid the eggs onto a plate. “Couldn’t help it, huh? I barely have a reason to care about what happened, but that excuse is actually insulting.”  


“I really couldn’t!” Malcolm frowned more, kicking the bar stool out of frustration. “It was so weird, it was like I literally couldn’t help myself. It was like, when she was around me, I just had to be with her. And not like the usual, she’s-hot-I-have-to-have-her, it was like I really couldn’t fucking stop myself even if I wanted to!”  


You, at first irritated by his excuse, finally remembered exactly how freaky the world had become, and exactly who it was that Malcolm had been seduced by. You sighed, taking his hand. “I believe you.”  


Malcolm blinked, his frown relaxing as he looked at you with surprise written all over his face. “You do? Really?”  


You nodded, handing him the plate full of eggs. “I do. You should eat something.”  


Malcolm stared at the plate for a moment, before his eyes teared up. Malcolm bit his lip, covering his mouth with is hand and looking away, choking back the tears he tried in vain to hide.  


“Whoa, whoa!” You set the plate on the counter and gently took Malcolm by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”  


Malcolm shrugged out of your grip, turning away, rubbing his mouth harder, his brows knitting. “Everyone is so mad at me.” He choked out, frowning when his voice squeaked. He took a couple steps away from you before continuing. “I tried to explain it wasn’t my fault, but I can’t explain how! Everyone’s been yelling at me all day, and it’s just-god!”  


Malcolm finished his rant with a quick walk to and around the living room, wiping the corners of his eyes with his sleeve before bringing his hand back to his mouth and rubbing it frantically.  


You stood dumbly in place, still holding the plate, a little shocked by his outburst, and increasingly wishing you’d remembered to yell at Brahms while you had the chance. You hoped Brahms was floating around somewhere close, feeling bad about what he had done to Malcolm.  


“I mean, I wanted it in the moment, like really wanted it, but it just feels wrong.” He mumbled, wiping his nose not-too-subtly on his sleeve.  


“Okay, well don’t do that.” You sighed, grabbing a clean dishtowel and handing it to Malcolm. He immediately blew his nose in it, making you shudder. “Gross!”  


“You handed it to me!” Malcolm snapped back.  


“I didn’t think you’d actually…who does that?” You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why don’t you clean yourself up, and I’ll get something delivered, alright? Provided we don’t kill each other before dinner, that is.”  


Malcolm nodded slightly. “Where’s your bathroom, and what kind of alcohol do you have?”  


You lead him to your bathroom, grabbing a pair of sleep pants and an oversized t-shirt from the closet on the way. You set the clothes on the bathroom counter, turning to your guest. “You can shower if you want, you’re probably cold from running around out there for God knows how long. We can go out and buy booze after dinner.”  


“I’m not hungry.” Malcolm frowned slightly again, stripping off his shirt.  


“Maybe, but you have to eat before drinking so you don’t get too sick too fast.” You leaned on the doorframe, trying not to eye Malcolm’s chest. “Any real drinker would know that.”  


Malcolm raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. “Fair enough.”  


“You’re lucky you’re kind of cute when you cry. Take your time, I’ll get something together.” You smirked and left the bathroom, leaving Malcolm to himself.  


You groaned softly and stretched as you walked to the kitchen, debating scrapping the eggs all together or putting them in a container. You had promised Malcolm some sort of take out, after all. And lukewarm eggs were becoming less and less appetizing.  


As you got out a Tupperware, you heard the faint noise of water running from the bathroom.  


So he did decide to shower. You thought before glaring at the space around her. “Brahms!” You hissed.  


Nothing.  


“Brahms!” You snapped again, but again, there was nothing.  


You took a few steps forward, looking around in confusion. “Brahms?”


	12. Greta

The inside of Greta’s home was about what you would expect from a demon, the house was very decorative, with many of her things in various shades of red and black. This was not something Greta had done on purpose, she just liked the color red. A simple explanation, maybe, but the reality of life is that not everything happens for a reason, and if there is a reason, it is often a menial one.  


Greta sat in her living room, reading a book that she had stolen off the night stand of one of her meals. She wasn’t particularly interested in it, but she was in the mood where nothing was appealing to do.  


Her home was a grand one, as most demon homes tended to be, since demons had nothing in terms of money and currency that caused such chaos in the human world. Greta leaned back to stretch when she noticed that someone had broken into her house and was floating a few feet above her.  


“Brahms.” She said simply, noticing his tense expression. “You’re looking, oh what’s the word, drained and thin and overall unhappy.”  


“That was several words.” Brahms sank to the floor, curling up by the chair Greta was occupying. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”  


Greta gently pet his hair, watching him wring his tail. “I don’t either.” She finally replied.  


“I thought it would be different.” Brahms mumbled. “I thought that after I told [y/n] everything that somehow it would be just like the dreams we shared. Where I’d always be sitting with them, and everything would be so pleasant and peaceful.”  


Greta waited, silently urging him to continue.  


Brahms sighed. “But it feels stiff. Uncomfortable. Fake. More fake than when I was pulling the strings in her mind.”  


“Come here, Brahms.” Greta said gently, pulling Brahms onto the chair, slipping into his lap. He complied, allowing her to curl up into his chest without complaint, Brahms’s tail still firmly grasped in his hands.  


“Why did you want to make it work in the first place?” Greta continued, running her fingers through his hair.  


Brahms frowned and looked away. “You’ll think I’m stupid.”  


“I already think you’re stupid.” Greta joked, earning a slap on the arm.  


“I don’t want to be something that lives for sex.” Brahms mumbled. The statement made Greta raise an eyebrow, as they were, in fact, creatures that needed sex to survive.  


“What do you mean?” She asked slowly, trying to see his point.  


“Humans have jobs, they make art, some of them can live for sex, but they don’t have to. No one here thinks of anything but their next meal. I want to…feel things. I want my heart to ache, I want to create something!” Brahms rambled.  


Greta placed her hands over his, gently making him release his grip on his overly abused tail. “That freedom is what makes them miserable. They stress about their jobs and they feel despair when their art reveals that they are talentless. We’re lucky that we only have to think of what to eat next. We’re liberated.”  


“It doesn’t feel that way to me.” Brahms looked away. “I think my human wants me to stick around.”  


Greta felt anger well in her chest. That little human shit just has to do the opposite of what I said, huh?  


“And?” She prompted.  


“It made me happy, but, I’m still here.” Brahms shrugged defeatedly. “This might all just be a lost cause after all.”  


Now, at any other moment, Greta would love to jab at Brahms about how much of a quitter he was, and how often he gave up on things halfway through, but this was not the optimal situation for Greta to goad him about that character flaw of his. Especially because she wanted Brahms to give up on the human. Greta wanted him to quit this stupid endeavor more than she wanted anything in her entire existence.  


Greta was always the first to go on about how demons are incapable of feeling love, but what she didn’t seem to realize was that the fierce protectiveness she felt for Brahms was, at the very least, something akin to love. And at the very most, meant that she was deeply in love with her old friend and hadn’t been taught-as most demons haven’t been-how to identify the feeling.  


“I don’t care what you do.” Greta said softly, tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes. “Your hair is dull, and your eyes are dark, I know you must be starving. Let me feed you tonight. You can figure out your life tomorrow.”  


Brahms purred quietly at her touch, giving in to his hunger. You had given him permission to get food from other sources, after all.  


“Can I try something on you?” Brahms asked quietly, nervous.  


Greta raised an eyebrow, wondering exactly what he could possibly ask of a fellow sex demon that would make him so nervous. “Go on.”  


Brahms gently cupped Greta’s face, his tail twitching behind him nervously. “Don’t freak out?” He asked.  


Greta raised her other eyebrow as well in reply. “I’ll certainly try not to.”  


Brahms laughed slightly-more of a more aggressive breathing out through the nostrils than a laugh-and gently kissed Greta.  


Now, Greta was a demon who took a lot of pride in rarely being surprised by anything. She had been around a long time and was considered very powerful. She had seen all the best and wort of the world, and she hadn’t felt shock since she was a human being. Greta now, however, was shocked to the point of being unable to move.  


Brahms felt her body tense up against him, and he knew that by kissing Greta he was doing something very human, and was probably going to be scolded for it. But, Greta wasn’t pushing him off just yet, so he decided to dig himself into as deep a hole as he possibly could before Greta snapped back to her senses. Brahms gently traced his tongue over her bottom lip, the heat that only their kind could feel together burning both of them in the most sensual of ways.  


Greta looked at Brahms’s face, still in a stupor, and the tantalizing heat of his tongue not helping her get back into her right mind. Greta felt him bite at her lip, not in a violent way, as he had done on multiple occasions on her neck and shoulders, this bite felt more tender. Brahms then kissed her yet again, gently. Greta felt his lips against hers, and to her own amazement Greta realized she had gotten wet.  


With that realization she finally came back into herself and pushed him away. “What was that?” She asked, becoming infuriated that she sounded a bit breathless.  


“A kiss.” Brahms replied simply.  


“I know what a kiss is.” Greta snapped. “Why would you to that to a succubus? To anyone for that matter?”  


“You said I could try it on you.” Brahms frowned and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I know you liked it.” He added, grinding up on her for emphases.  


“Why?” Was all Greta could muster, gritting her teeth to keep from getting uncharacteristically angry. “It doesn’t feed us, there’s no point to it.”  


Brahms reached down, rubbing her between her legs gently, leaving traces of heat on her sensitive skin. “I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to try it.”  


Greta glared at him, though they both knew that she wasn’t seriously mad. She never stayed mad at him. And she would never admit it, but she wanted to kiss again. That had been a different kind of pleasure Greta hadn’t experienced since she was a human; innocent pleasure with someone she cared about.  


“Just shut up and let me feed you.” Greta growled, putting her hands on Brahms’s shoulders and grinding back on him.  


Brahms just smiled, wanting to keep teasing her, to get back at her for how fussy she had been over him lately. But he just spared her. “You’re the boss.”


	13. A Bit Awkward

“Wasn’t your boyfriend coming over?” Malcolm called from your room.  


“Yeah, I guess I got stood up.” You called back, distracted. The food was on its way, the eggs were in the fridge, and you had cleaned the kitchen back to crumb-less perfection. Brahms had remained silent, despite your hissing and cursing at him as intensely as you possibly could without Malcolm overhearing. “Enjoy your shower?”  


Malcolm made a ‘mm-hm’ sound in reply, walking back into the kitchen in your sleep clothes.  


“Thanks for letting me go incognito here.” Malcolm plopped down on a couch in the living room, pulling out his phone, briefly forgetting that he had put it on airplane mode and that he was, in fact, avoiding everyone. Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning. He quickly shoved the phone back in his pocket.  


Putting his phone on airplane mode had for the most part silenced the messages, but the thing about social media was that there was always a different way to get to someone.  


Malcolm grabbed a remote, turning on the TV and flipping through channels. You watched him quietly from the kitchen, debating your next move and where your incubus might have run off to, when the doorbell rang.  


“Food!” Malcolm called from the couch, finally settling on a true crime series from the nineties whose narrator had a surprisingly soothing voice.  


“I heard.” You replied, walking to the door and opening it. Once the door was open, you were met by none other than Brahms in his human form. You yelped in surprise as human-Brahms stood, awkwardly, in the doorway.  


“Hey, you.” Brahms said, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes cast aside. “I, uh, ate.” He looked into the apartment, his now-green eyes riddled with guilt.  


“Oh.” You replied. You weren’t entirely sure how to feel, until you remembered your house guest. “Well, come in, we didn’t order any food for you since…you weren’t here?”  


You tilted her head slightly as you finished your sentence, and Brahms nodded back subtly as he walked inside, eyes darkening when he saw Malcolm lazily watching TV in the living room.  


“Sorry I’m late, who is this?” Brahms feigned ignorance as he walked over to Malcolm, who hadn’t bothered to stand up to introduce himself.  


“Malcolm.” Malcolm held out his hand and gave Brahms’s a shake, which Brahms responded to by squeezing Malcolm’s hand a bit too hard.  


“And I’m Brahms.” Brahms replied, walking back over to you. “So, what’s on the agenda for the night?”  


You leaned on the kitchen counter, surprised and confused by how guilty you felt being caught with your ex-fiancé. And the confusion only got worse when you realized she could smell sex on Brahms. It made you uncomfortable.  


“Drinking.” You replied, pulling some wine out of your cabinet. “As soon as we eat.”  


“But you haven’t eaten yet.” Brahms made a move to wring his tail before he realized he was in his human form, deciding instead to wring the next best thing, which was his hands.  


You nodded slightly. “It’s on it’s way. Do you want to, maybe shower?” You focused on finding a wine opener, not looking at Brahms, knowing it was you who said he was allowed to feed off of other people and not wanting to make him feel bad.  


Brahms reached out, gently tracing his fingers over your cheek, admiring your profile as you busied yourself with opening the wine. “Do you know how amazing you are?” He suddenly asked.  


You blinked, turning to him for the first time since he walked in. “No?” You replied.  


Brahms smiled, his familiar human form making your knees weak. He leaned close to you, lowering his voice and saying close to your ear. “I wish I had known you when I was alive. I think you were exactly the kind of person I needed.”  


You could feel yourself blushing, and you looked back at the wine bottle. “You used to be alive?”  


“I was.” Brahms murmured, resting his forehead on the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “I think I waited for someone like you.”  


You shifted, blushing more. “Hush. Go shower.”  


Brahms chuckled, pulling back. “Okay.” He finally stepped back, walking to your bathroom.  


You were about to follow him, realizing that he might not be sure how to turn on the water by himself, when the doorbell rang again.  


“Malcolm, that must be the food, go get it!” You shouted, pouring two glasses.  


Malcolm shouted out a reply that was somewhere between an ‘okay’ and a ‘sure,’ walking to the door and answering it, collecting the food for the both of you. Though it felt to you as if most of the night had been spent just trying to get your hands on some food, when it was in front of you, you felt that you couldn’t eat. The smell of sex on Brahms had made your stomach churn, and while you and Malcolm sat in the living room watching tv, you mostly just stabbed at the food, trying to focus on the show and not think.  


*  
*  
*  


It had taken Brahms about five minutes to figure out how to operate the shower, and once he was in he scrubbed as hard as he could. He felt dirty. He had never felt dirty after a meal before, and yet here he was.  


You had several different good smelling soaps, and he used every single last one of them. But even then, to his enhanced nose, he could still smell where he had been.  


He breathed out his mouth, the sigh echoing off of the shower walls. Brahms was in his demon form in the shower, stretching out his wings while he still could. The hot water reminded him of home, it made him feel safe.  


“Alright, no more pussyfooting around.” Brahms mumbled to himself, turning off the water. Grabbing a nearby towel, he dried off, stepping out of the shower. He stepped out into your room, bringing up his human glamour.  


Brahms walked into the living room, seeing Malcolm drinking wine straight from the bottle and you curled up on the couch, your food uneaten on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes were closed, and Brahms assumed you had fallen asleep.  


Brahms and Malcolm made eye contact, and Malcolm instantly frowned.  


“Do I know you?” Malcolm asked.  


“Yeah, I was the guy you told to fuck off.” Brahms replied, walking over to you and sitting by your feet. He pulled your feet into his lap, gently rubbing them.  


“Ah.” Malcolm replied, nodding slightly. “I remember now. For a second I thought I knew you from somewhere else.”  


'I’m just the girl you had sex with about a day ago.' Brahms thought, running a hand up your leg.  


“Well, you want a drink?” Malcolm asked, holding up the bottle.  


“I think I would.” Brahms nodded, holding out his hand and taking the bottle from him.


	14. Face

You weren’t really asleep. You had just closed your eyes for a second, and quickly found that you were simply too lazy to open them again. Of course when Brahms started gently rubbing your feet, you felt even more relaxed than before.  


Your consciousness started to drift, the sounds of the television and the awkward conversation between the two men jumping around as you came into an out of several mini naps. Every time you woke up your eyes would flutter, but you’d be back asleep again before you knew it.  


What finally broke you out of the vicious cycle was warm and soft pressure on your lips.  


You groaned, forcing your eyes open to see Brahms kissing you softly.  


“Brahms?” You mumbled against his lips, making him pull back. “What’s going on?”  


Brahms smiled sheepishly, hovering over you. “Malcolm went out to get some wine to replace some of what we drank while you were asleep.”  


As your eyes focused, you saw Brahms was blushing slightly. “Are you drunk?” You asked, sitting up to keep from falling asleep again. “What time is it?”  


Brahms grinned widely. “It is two in the morning and yes.”  


You breathed through your nose, a smile playing on your lips. “So, are you feeling good?”  


Brahms nodded quickly, hugging you tightly. Though he was in his human form, his tail twitched behind him. “I’ve never been drunk!”  


You laughed, reaching out and gently grasping his tail in your hands, watching it as it slipped out of your hand. It felt like a snake, and you laughed more.  


“Well, I’m glad Malcolm is gone, because you aren’t controlling yourself very well.” You teased, drawing his attention to his tail, making him blush more.  


“I’m glad he’s gone too.” Brahms hugged you, his tail swishing back and forth. “I wanted to kiss you.”  


Without bothering to reply, you pulled him into a gentle kiss. His lips were warm, but he was still a novice when it came to kissing. That and the fact that he was drunk. The kiss was a little flumbly, but you didn’t mind it one bit.  


Brahms pulled back, laughing softly. “I love it!” He cheered, kissing you again. You tried not to laugh against his lips at his little outburst when he pulled back once again. “This is so useless, I love it!” Brahms kissed you again, saying something against your lips that you couldn’t quite make out.  


You finally let out your laugh, gently pushing him off of you. “Come on Brahms, that’s-.”  


Your eyes widened slightly as you saw what his face had become. Half of his face was completely covered in burns, and he looked dirty and sweaty. You pushed yourself away from him, bringing a hand to your mouth.  


“B-Brahms? What’s going on?” You whispered, looking at this new version of Brahms you had never seen before.  


Brahms looked confused, sitting back, knowing that you were scared but not understanding why.  


“What is it?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.  


With your free hand that wasn’t occupied, you weakly pointed to his face. Brahms looked around, before his eyes fell on his reflection in the window. He yelped slightly before he literally flew off of the couch, flying in the middle of the living room in his pure demon form, any and all semblance of his human façade now gone.  


Brahms covered his face in his hands, the spikes the protruded from the side of his face that had looked burned only seconds before preventing him from truly covering everything.  


“W-what was that?” You asked, shaking slightly, unnerved.  


Brahms shook his head slightly, continuing to hold himself up in the middle of the living room.  


Standing, you forced yourself to calm down, knowing that whatever you saw, it must still be Brahms. Reaching out, you gently wrapped your hand around his tail, feeling it slowly slink out of your grasp.  


“Brahms.” You prodded.  


He slowly took his hands off of his face, grabbing his tail and wringing it violently in his hands instead.  


“That was me.” He said weakly.  


“I kind of figured.” You replied, trying to coax him down by gesturing with your hands to come to you. “But it doesn’t look like how you usually look.”  


Brahms sighed, finally floating down and standing in front of you. “That was what I looked like when I died.”  


Your eyebrows raised in surprise, reaching up and gently pressing your finger to one of the spikes coming out of his eye socket. “Does that have anything to do with this?”  


Brahms nodded. “Demons usually have spikes where the wounds that killed them were. I didn’t die from burns, but.” He shrugged. “I guess the scars were my most notable feature.”  


“So, why did I see that?” You asked, placing your hands over his, trying to distract him from wringing his tail.  


“I just slipped and lost control of my form real quick.” Brahms mumbled, looking away from you. “It’s easiest to base our human forms off of how we looked in real life, so, I used it as a base.”  


He finally took his hands off of his tail, and you gently held it in yours, kissing the section that he had been hurting. “Can I see it again?”  


Brahms’ eye widened as he took a step away from you, forcing you to let go of his tail. “Why would you want to see that?”  


“Because, that was the real you, wasn’t it?” You shrugged slightly. “So, can I see?”  


Brahms paused for a moment. “But I was so ugly.”  


You laughed slightly at his matter-of-factness, trying to cover it by coughing. “I was just surprised. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”  


Brahms shifted from foot to foot as his human façade formed again. However, it was still the unscarred version of Brahms you had gotten to know. You waited expectantly for him to change into the new version of Brahms that you had only gotten a glimpse of, but it never happened.  


“Brahms?” You asked.  


He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”  


“Oh.” You nodded in understanding. “Well, that’s okay. Come on, let’s get you some water so you don’t get too dehydrated.”  


You reached out your hand to him, smiling at him and trying to communicate with your eyes that you weren’t disappointed. The corner of Brahms’ mouth turned up slightly as he took your hand, letting you lead him to the kitchen.


	15. Make-up Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Malcolm episode.

Malcolm walked to the nearest grocery store, a hastily scribbled list of the wines he had drunk in his coat pocket. Between him and Brahms, and the one glass that you had poured for yourself but hadn’t drunk, your small collection was pretty much cleaned out.  


He felt a little tipsy, but most of your collection had been more sweet than alcoholic. And besides, you were right, the pre-drink meal had been important to keep him from getting too drunk too fast. He’d probably start feeling it all at once soon enough, but he had never really had enough wine to know how it affects him.  


Malcolm walked faster, the cold biting at his cheeks. The grocery store lights shone brightly just down the street, a beacon of hope and warmth. He made his legs move faster, jogging down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets.  


With a gush of warm air, the automatic doors opened like the gates of heaven, and Malcolm was safely inside the beautiful artificial heat.  


“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, earning a glare from a nearby old lady. Malcolm would have blushed if his cheeks weren’t already flushed from the cold. He might have been a tad more buzzed than he was giving himself credit for.  


As he walked over to the wine and spirits section, Malcolm remembered that his card had been declined earlier that day. He almost swore out loud again before he realized a mother with a young child were walking past.  


“Alright, lets figure this out.” He mumbled to himself, pulling out his wallet and checking the contents. Normally, he never had cash, but thanks to a birthday check from his favorite weird aunt he had a fresh twenty-dollar bill. Which was good, but it would not be enough to replace all that he had drunk.  


He pulled out the list which had all of the specific brands and types. His eyes fell on the clearance section, and he quickly sauntered over. For twenty dollars he could buy three, maybe four random things from the shelf.  


Malcolm winced at the thought, but for the moment it was the best he could do. He started selecting the cheapest, least-disgusting things he could find. He usually prided himself on being considered charming by most people he met, and now he was the guy who came into someone’s house and drank all their things without properly replacing it.  


His parents had frozen his cards before, they had also threatened to disown him before. Malcolm had always gotten back in their good graces, and they were never truly serious about the disownment. They were just trying to teach him a lesson, even though he was a grown man.  


It was a bit disheartening, and a bit degrading, but his parents always reminded him that it was their money, not his.  


Malcolm groaned in annoyance as he walked to the register with his armfuls of probably-disgusting booze. He set the bottles with the little red clearance stickers on the ramp at the register, realizing too late that he hadn’t done precise math on what he was planning to purchase. The realization came too late, because the cashier was already scanning everything.  


“Um, if it’s more than twenty dollars, just take the grossest thing off the bill please.” Malcolm said, digging out his wallet again.  


“Um, okay.” The cashier smiled slightly, having gone a whole shift and his request being the most entertaining thing that had happened to her all day.  


Malcolm took out the twenty and looked at the price. It came to twenty-one fifty.  


The cashier looked over the drinks, carefully eyeing them and trying to decide which was the grossest to take off the total.  


Malcolm again cursed his frozen card, scowling at his situation. It couldn’t go on like this.  


“Hey.” Malcolm asked, interrupting the cashier’s careful deliberation.  


The cashier looked up. “Oh, sorry, I’ll just pick one already.”  


“No, it’s not that.” Malcolm smiled. “Are there any job openings here?”  


She blinked. “Uh, yeah, I think we were needing to hire grocery delivery boys.”  


Malcolm nodded. “Okay, do I need a degree for that? Because I don’t have one.”  


“Do you have a licence?” She asked.  


Malcolm nodded.  


“Then I think you’re good.” She said. “Why don’t you come back in the morning, my manager will be here and can set up an interview. I’ll leave him a note saying you’re coming.” She pulled out a notepad and handed it to him. “Just write your info on here.”  


Malcolm grinned widely, taking the notebook and writing down his contact information. “I’m going to have a job!” He cheered, rocking on his heels with excitement.  


The cashier giggled. “Maybe, you’ll have a job. But we are understaffed. And I am taking this orange-chocolate liquor out of here, and your total is eighteen forty-one.”  


“Keep the change.” Malcolm continued grinning, taking the bags. “I’m going to have a job!”  


“Maybe.” She corrected, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow-.” She looked at the notecard. “-Malcolm.”  


He waved goodbye happily before walking out of the store, so happy he didn’t mind the cold on the walk back to the apartment.


	16. Doubt

“Isn’t that just so much better?” You smiled, watching Brahms drink and entire glass of water in one go. Water spilled out the sides of his mouth, and he moved the glass from his lips with a relieved sigh.  


“It felt nice.” Brahms sighed, handing the glass back to you. “More?”  


You chuckled, getting him water from the fridge. “You could’ve done this on your own, you know.”  


“I prefer you do human things so I don’t make a fool of myself anymore.” Brahms said, looking bashful. “And I’ll do incubus things, whenever that’s needed.”  


“Hopefully it won’t be anymore.” You smiled as you heard the front door swung open.  


“I got a job!” Malcolm’s voice floated from the front door, and the pictures on the walls shuttered as he slammed the door behind him. Brahms made a face and pulled you closer by your waist.  


You gave him a warning glare as Malcolm walked into the kitchen with a smile on his face and a grocery bag in his hand.  


“I have a job interview tomorrow!” Malcolm beamed, handing you the grocery bag. “And I replaced what I drank!”  


You looked inside the grocery bag, quickly noting that pretty much everything inside was a drink mixer, and not actually a drink. Instead of pointing that out, you just smiled. “A job interview? How did that happen?”  


“The lady at the register said that if I came by in the morning that I could ask the manager. I’m going to be a grocery store delivery boy!”  


You laughed, abruptly covering it with a cough, not wanting to discourage him when he seemed so happy. “That’s, uh, I can’t picture you doing that for a living.”  


“It kind of just happened.” He smiled happily. “But, you know, I’m a grown man, and I can’t just live with my parents holding money over my head, you know?”  


“Makes sense.” You smiled, leaning on Brahms. “I’m happy for you.”  


“That being said, can I stay here tonight? You live right down the street, so, it would be pretty convenient.” Malcolm asked, smiling sweetly.  


Brahms’ grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him bury his face in your hair.  


“Yeah, that’s fine.” You said, ignoring Brahms for the time being. “You can take the couch, but I think it’s about time that Brahms and I go to bed.”  


“Very fair.” Malcolm said, walking to the living room and plopping down on the couch.  


“Good luck in the morning.” You called, gently tugging on Brahms’ hand. “Come on, Brahms.”  


You walked Brahms to your bedroom, closing the door behind him as he melted back into his incubus form.  


“I need to go to work in the morning, so just be mindful that Malcolm will be in the house because he’ll definitely not go to that interview.” You instructed, stripping and getting into bed.  


Brahms floated over, sitting on the bed next to you. “I thought you didn’t like him?”  


You blinked, pausing from settling into a comfortable position. “What?”  


“I thought you couldn’t stand to be around him. I thought that was the entire point of me sleeping with him.” Brahms mumbled, his tail twitching violently, almost whacking you, making you flinch. Brahms grabbed it to steady it, looking panicked that he almost hurt you.  


“Well, I guess I mostly didn’t like him because I had to marry him. Besides, he’s only here because you slept with him, and now his family is freezing his assets.” You frowned slightly, laying back on the pillow. “Are you upset I’m letting him stay over?”  


Brahms half-shrugged, lying down next to you. “Maybe a bit.”  


“I’m not going to sleep with the guy.” You said, picking up your phone and making sure your alarm for the next morning was set. You felt a twinge of anger at Brahms, remembering how he smelled like sex when he came back into the apartment. Yes, you understood that he had to, but the illogical part of your brain started to hyper-fixate on that fact, making you angry.  


“I know.” Brahms said softly, reading your expression. “Sorry.”  


You sighed, turning to him and reaching out, gently tracing the spikes coming out of his eye. “I’m just tired. And you, just play nice, please?”  


“I will.” Brahms nodded. “Do you want me to help you sleep?”  


“Will I get addicted to it like sleeping pills? Or will I not be able to sleep without your help afterwards like with people who take melatonin?” You asked.  


Brahms chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing like that.”  


“Then, okay.” You smiled slightly, trying to push the intrusive thoughts of him having sex with someone who wasn’t you out of your head. You closed your eyes, and you felt 

Brahms rest his hand on your face as you fell asleep.  


Brahms watched you quietly, at your features, your breath, your eyes moving in your sleep, even your smell and heartbeat, all things he hadn’t had himself since he died.  


Petty jealousy was also something he hadn’t felt since he was human. But he knew it when he saw it. He saw it in you, and he felt it in himself.  


Brahms had starved himself for you at one point, and he might have been miserable, but it was all for you. Now he had you, and he let himself succumb to hunger. Even with your permission, it didn’t seem right.  


Brahms chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief at how his resolve seemed to be running in circles. Only humans thought this hard about something so simple without ever coming to a resolution.  


“I think you’re turning me human.” Brahms whispered in your ear, smiling at how your hand lazily moved to swat him away. “There’s only you, I hope you know that. There’s only you. Just you.”


	17. Interview

“Job interview, job interview, what the fuck do you do in a job interview?” Malcolm mumbled to himself as he moved around your kitchen, pacing with nervous energy. “Don’t know how this works because I’ve never had a job.”  


“Nervous?” You interjected, walking into the kitchen and crossing his arms.  


Malcolm looked up and nodded. “Have you ever been to a job interview?”  


“Never.” You said honestly. “Just be professional.”  


“I’ll do my best.” Malcolm walked past you to the front door, accidentally slamming it behind him, having only increased his nervousness through pacing.  


You chuckled softly before gathering your things, about to head out to work. Brahms hovered near the doorway, watching you.  


“I’ll be back later.” You said, looking down at your phone, frowning when you saw a text from your father. “What are you going to do all day?”  


“Be nice to Malcolm.” Brahms said, repeating your instructions from the night before. “How opposed are you to theft?”  


“Uh.” You faltered. “Depends on the theft.”  


Brahms nodded thoughtfully before putting his hand on your back, gently ushering you out the door. “Well, have a good day at work.”  


“Brahms, what are you going to steal?” You asked, trying to turn to look at him. Unfortunately Brahms was strong, and you were already running late, and Brahms successfully pushed you out of your own apartment before closing the door behind you.  


“You dumb demon.” You said without malice, heading downstairs, to catch a cab to take you to work.  


Once a cab was hailed, you finally had a calm moment to see what your father had said.  


Call me when you go to lunch. Was all the text said. For some reason, it rubbed you the wrong way. Your father never left it up to you to communicate, especially not at times it would be convenient for you.  


*  
*  
*  


Malcolm walked out of the job interview with the good news that he was now an employed man. The cashier he had spoken to the night before had been right-they were desperate for people. All he’d had to do was fill out some information and they already had a day lined up for him to start training.  


On one hand, he was excited to finally have something to do with his day besides golf and video games. On the other, he wasn’t exactly sure how long he could go being a regular person with a regular amount of money. Sure, the concept of a job seemed good the night before, but after waking up early and walking to the grocery store, he was becoming more enamored with the idea of going back to his parents and just apologizing.  


Malcolm pulled his phone out of his pocket, pulling up his dad’s contact when he brushed against someone on the street. He turned to mumble an apology when his breath hitched in his throat.  


A beautiful woman stood in front of him, with sharp features and straight brown hair. Malcolm stumbled slightly, his knees weak.  


Vaguely, he recognized this feeling that this woman was making him feel. It was the same feeling he had been overcome with only a couple of days earlier when he had sex with that woman at the party.  


This was obviously a different woman, but the vibes coming from her were the same. Overpowering pheromones.  


Malcolm instinctively took a step back, feeling scared and weak. He vaguely heard the sound of his phone clattering to the ground.  


Why is this happening again? Malcolm thought as the woman stepped closer to him. To his dismay, he found he couldn’t move anymore.  


“I’m Greta.” She said, lightly touching his arm.  


Malcolm tried to reply, but his tongue felt like cotton. He just nodded helplessly.  


Greta nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “Are you listening to me?”  


Malcolm nodded again, the sounds of the street fading to nothing, until all there was, was Greta.  


“Good.” Greta said. “The human you were betrothed to, you love them.”  


“I do?” Malcolm tried to say. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his words came out slurred.  


“You do. You have to win that human back.” She squeezed his arm before pulling back. “Because you’re so in love.”  


Malcolm’s vision grew blurry, and he swayed on his feet. “I’m in love?”  


Greta nodded, stepping away, reigning back on the amount of magic she was using. Her work here was done, and she completely released her hold on Malcolm as she walked away, leaving him dazed and confused. Pheromones and the power of suggestion could sway humans to do just about anything.  


Malcolm physically shook his head, looking around in confusion. He couldn’t remember what he was doing, but he vaguely remembered that he was going to call someone.  


He felt around for his phone before spotting it on the ground.  


“Oh, damn it.” He mumbled, picking it up and turning it over to make sure that it wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t, and he sighed in relief.  


Wait, so who was I going to call? He thought, opening up the contacts in his phone. His eyes fell on your contact, chuckling at what he had labeled you as in his phone. “Annoying Person I’m Marrying.” It felt a bit harsh, looking at it now, but he figured you’d appreciate the humor.  


Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed the call button.  


Back at work, your phone started ringing, turning from your computer, you looked at your phone. “Boring Guy” flashed across the screen.  


“Hello?” You asked when you answered. “What’s up?”  


Malcolm hesitated. “I don’t know.” He said.  


You chuckled, turning back to what you were doing on your work computer. “Oh yeah? Did you fall of your phone and accidentally call me?”  


“No.” Malcolm said. “I just, I kind of forgot what I was doing.”  


“Did you forget about your job interview?” You asked. “Because that was supposed to be happening today.”  


“No, no, I think I went to that.” Malcolm’s voice sounded tired over the phone, and you frowned in concern.  


“Are you okay?” You asked.  


“Yeah, I think so.” Malcolm said. “Hey, is it okay if I keep staying with you for a while?”  


You blinked in surprise. “I guess so. Why? You have to have your own house.”  


“Your place is close to my new job, and my house is mine, but was bought with my parents’ money. I’ve been thinking, maybe I should try to live off of myself for the first time.” Malcolm leaned on the building he was next to, not quite knowing why he was saying what he was saying, but he felt that it was the right thing to say.  


“Uh, well.” You started. “I guess that’s okay. But I only have a one-bedroom apartment, you know.”  


“That’s fine, for now.” Malcolm said. “I’ll get some things from my place.”  


“Okay.” You said lamely, a little confused by Malcolm’s newest life choice.  


“Thank you.” He hung up before you had the chance to reply, and you looked dumbly at your phone while wondering what the hell just happened.


	18. Art

Brahms had covered the kitchen head to toe in newspapers. He had seen that that was one way to keep paint from going everywhere in the room.  


Brahms had piles of art supplies in front of him, all stolen from various art stores and from houses with people who bought art supplies while manic and then never touched the supplies again. Brahms never realized how easy it was to steal from people as an incubus. If he cared about human money, he could make a pretty good career out of it.  


The thought that he could provide for you via theft floated through his head, but he quickly repressed it as he unwrapped a canvas and opened up several paints. Faded Green, Crimson, Lavender, Mustard. Probably not the best colors all together, but art was supposed to be about expression, and Brahms liked all of those colors individually.  


He poured the paint into plastic cups, mimicking an internet video he had watched over your shoulder one time. He thinned the paint, before pouring the crimson paint onto the canvas, spreading it over the entire surface.  


Brahms felt himself grinning ear to ear as he picked up the Faded Green, carefully picking up the canvas and letting the faded green drip down the canvas, not using too much of it. Once it was done, he flipped the canvas onto the other side, doing the same with Mustard until the colors started to touch in the middle.  


Brahms hopped excitedly from foot to foot as he looked at the painting thus far. He dipped his tail into the lavender, laying it in a spiral in the center of the canvas, mimicking what the internet human had done with string. Slowly he pulled his tail out, moving it with his hips, keeping his tail limp as the lavender color created a design in the painting.  


Brahms looked down at the painting that he had made, his tail flicking nervously behind him. It wasn’t anything particularly amazing, but it was his. He had made it himself. The first thing he’d ever made.  


Before he could help it, his wings fluttered excitedly, making him hover above the ground. He was making art!  


He flew over to another canvas, unwrapping it and grabbing several different tubes of glitter glue. Brahms set the canvas down, completely squeezing out the gold and silver glitter glue on it, spreading the glue with his lavender-covered tail, creating a swirl of sparkling Lavender. Brahms looked down at the sparkling mess, feeling like it was missing something.  


He dipped his tail into what remained in the Mustard paint, slowly dragging it line by line through the mess of glue, careful not to get too much of the Mustard color onto the canvas, just trace amounts that looked amazing when near the golden glitter.  


Brahms took a moment to admire his good work, knowing that this particular painting was complete.  


Greedily he dug into another canvas, pouring all of the rest of the colors onto it and moving them around so that the colors spread into each other. He then took the paint labeled Black Hole and spread it over one of his wings, very carefully pressing it into the paint, creating a vague black impression of his wing in the colorful mess.  


“Yes!” Brahms cheered excitedly, flapping his wings in excitement. His excitement quickly changed to dread when he realized that while he was lost in his creativity, the body parts of his that he had covered in paint had been moving of their own accord, splattering paint all over the ceiling and walls.  


“Oh.” Brahms said, looking at the dots of Black Hole, Lavender, and Mustard paint littering the ceiling, walls, and kitchen appliances. “Fuck.”


	19. The Phone Call

You stared down your phone as your lunch break grew ever closer. You didn’t want to call your dad. Hell, now that you thought about it you weren’t sure if you had ever called your dad first. It had always been him calling, barging, bothering.  


You weren’t even sure what he wanted out of you. The engagement had only been broken off, what, like yesterday? Surely your father needed more prep time than that to think of ways to ruin your life.  


All too soon, your lunch time rolled around, and you picked you your phone, going through your contacts to find his number. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and you rubbed your hand on your arm in agitation.  


“Come on, self. Get it together.” You mumbled, pressing the call button before you could talk yourself out of it.  


Listening to the sound of the phone beeping felt like a storm coming in from the horizon, a disaster that hadn’t happened yet. Your father was never someone you wanted to talk to, but at least you always knew his habits, you knew the dance the two of you had. And he had gone and changed the rules.  


“Hello?” Finally came from the other line.  


“It’s me.” You said. “Why did you want me to call you?”  


“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Your father’s voice floated though the phone. It was his voice, but the words unfamiliar that all you could do was exhale. The anxiety and fight-instincts you had built up deflating as you breathed out, your entire body going from rigid to small and slumped.  


“What?” You asked when you could find your voice again.  


“I said I’m sorry.” He repeated. You were so used to his voice having nothing but bite in it, so used to him always being angry and yelling about something, you almost thought that a stranger must be talking to you over the phone.  


“Dad?” You whimpered, feeling your mouth stretch into a deep frown, your free hand covering it up as if there were anyone else in the room to hide it from. Your eyes burned, and you leaned back in your chair, eyes cast to the ceiling as you tried your best not to cry.  


'Stop it.' You thought to yourself. 'There’s going to be a catch, there’s always a catch.'  


“I’m sorry that I tried to use you to expand the company, that I never see how hard you work.” Your father continued. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”  


Your shoulders shook as hot tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, the ceiling becoming blurry as your eyes overflowed. “Why are you saying this?”  


“You’re my child, not something to bargain with.” He said. “You always show up at work on time, always been a hard worker even though you never had to be, and I just…I haven’t always been a good father to you, but I want to learn how to be better.”  


Trying to reply, the only sound you could make was a squeak, your entire body heating up from the cry. Your father was silent as you sobbed at an apology you never knew you wanted, but now that you had it, it turned out you needed it.  


“I-.” You hiccupped, your breath shuttering as you clamped your hand back over your mouth, terrified that Kevin could hear from outside your door.  


“I won’t try to marry you off ever again.” Your father said in response to your attempt at speaking. “It was a silly thing to do in this day and age.”  


“It was.” You laughed slightly through your tears. “Who does that in the twenty-first century?”  


Your father didn’t laugh at that, but that was fine. It wasn’t really a joke, more of a statement, and you were still crying, after all.  


In the back of your mind, you wondered how long this new attitude of this would last, if this meant anything in the long term, or if it was just a fluke. But you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your head. You tried to let yourself enjoy this moment, this hour, this conversation, where for the first time since you were born you and your father could talk without arguing. Where he was a man who could apologize, and see your constant efforts to be what he wanted you to be.  


You let yourself have this, at least until the next time the two of you spoke. If next time, he was back to normal, you convinced yourself that your heart wouldn’t break. You convinced yourself that this one moment of connection wasn’t what you had needed your whole life. And you fooled yourself, if only for the rest of your lunch hour.  


The two of you continued to talk, your tears eventually subsiding slightly, even if they weren’t completely gone, you found your voice once again. Your father responded to you when you spoke, mostly just repeating the same kind of words over and over again.  


When the two of you hung up, it was because your lunch was over and you had to get back to work. Your father called you a hard worker before you hung up the phone, causing another, briefer cry as you pulled up your emails, working through your tears.  


On the other line, your father still held the phone to his ear as he heard you hang up.  


“I’m so proud of you.” He said flatly.  


Greta slowly pulled the phone out of his hand, setting it on the table. “You did very well.” She squeezed his shoulders, the entire room filled with her magic and pheromones.  


“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel useless for so long.” Your father mumbled, his hand still against his ear, responding to the sound of a voice.  


“Now you have a happy child who has no reason to rebel against you anymore. No dating demons, no feelings to repress.” Greta sat on the desk, ignoring your father when he repeated another variation of an apology. “You’re going to continue to be an apologetic and proud parent, understood?”  


Your father finally snapped out of his stupor just enough to look up at Greta. “I understand.” He said.  


“Very good.” Greta nodded. “Children respond better to praise than to challenges and arguments, don’t you know that? A child who wants to make you happy is a child who will do what you say.”  


He nodded at her words, and Greta smiled, turning invisible and leaving the room.  


Your father shook his head, life coming back into his eyes as she left. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head even more to try to clear the fog out of it.  


He couldn’t remember what he was doing, but he felt as if he might have fallen asleep at his desk. He looked at the time, frowned, and opened up his computer, getting back to business as usual.


	20. You're F*cked

“Shiiiiiiiiit, shit shit shit!” Brahms panicked, desperately scrubbing at the paint stains on the ceiling. That only seemed to be smearing the paint around more, but none of the other tricks seemed to be working. He’d found an article online that said TEN TRICKS TO GET RID OF PAINT STAINS… #6 WILL SURPRISE YOU!!!  


Well, Brahms was certainly surprised, because nothing was working, and now the entire kitchen was covered in paint, and you were going to hate him forever. One of the worst parts was when he’d first realized his fatal mistake, his first instinct had been to fly around the kitchen and see just how bad the damage had been. The mistake was that his wing and tail were still both covered in paint.  


So now everything was messier than before.  


Brahms kept cursing, using every possible stain remover on the internet he could find, and still nothing could really get rid of his paints. Hell, he was one hour away from just kidnapping someone to clean the place for him!  


Brahms felt panicked tears prick at his eyes as he frantically dabbed away at a black paint stain on the ceiling. The prick turned to full-blown crying when he heard the front door open.  


“I’m sorry!” He yelled before he could help it, dropping to the ground.  


“Huh?” Malcolm’s voice came from the door.  


Brahms’ eyes widened, quickly creating his human façade. Unfortunately he couldn’t hide the tears he was crying. He ran into the hallway, tears streaming down his face. “Malcolm you have to help me!”  


Malcolm blinked in surprise, not used to seeing grown men cry so easily. “Wh-what’s wrong?”  


“I tried painting but then the paint got everywhere and it’s all over everything and I don’t know what to do!” Brahms sobbed, noticing Malcolm’s hands were filled with suitcases. “What are those?”  


“Ah, I’m moving in.” Malcolm said, happy to be changing the subject. “For a while.”  


That stopped Brahms’ tears for a moment. “What.”  


“Yeah, got permission and everything, in case you were worried.” Malcolm said, brushing past Brahms and setting his luggage on the floor. Malcolm’s eyes widened when he glanced into the kitchen. “Oh. Shit.”  


“I know!” Brahms looked into the kitchen as well, the panic returning to his face, electing to deal with one crisis at a time, he’d deal with Malcolm later. “What am I supposed to do?”  


Malcolm walked into the kitchen, eyes widening in disbelief. “How did you manage to get paint on the ceiling?”  


“I can’t explain it!” Brahms snapped. Because he literally couldn’t. “Just tell me how to fix it and I’ll fix it.”  


“Dude, this stuff looks dry, I don’t think there’s anything you can’t use but paint remover. But then the paint on the walls will come off too.” Malcolm frowned. “I think you’re just fucked.”  


“No, that’s not an answer, pick a different answer.” Brahms wrung his hands, looking around at his good work. “Come on, you have to help me, or (y/n) will hate me for this!”  


Malcolm paused, looking around the kitchen, Brahms’ words ringing in his head. You’d hate Brahms for this. You’d hate him for it. Meaning this could be the thing that led to the two of you breaking up. Malcolm couldn’t explain why, but the thought made Malcolm’s chest tight with hope.  


“I don’t know, man.” Malcolm shook his head, holding up his hands exaggeratedly in defeat. “I think you’re just screwed.”  


Brahms felt like he was going to cry again when the front door opened, and there you were.  


You looked up at him, and you smiled your wonderful smile. Your eyes were red like you had just been crying, and your body language was tired. You were coming home to him from a long day at work, and you were smiling at him.  


Brahms shrank back, eyes darting from you to the kitchen that he destroyed.  


“Brahms.” You said, kicking off your shoes and walking inside. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”  


Brahms held up his hands as you got closer, as if he could stop you from ever seeing your kitchen again. You noticed the panicked expression on his face, and his unusually defensive body language.  


You stopped, the amazing day you’d just had fading away as you realized that there was something else that needed fixing here. “What is it?” You asked.  


“Please don’t be mad.” Brahms said.


	21. Don't Be Mad

“Please don’t be mad.” Brahms said.  


You raised your eyebrow, your expression slowly turning into one of suspicion. “Why?”  


“Just please don’t.” Brahms shrank back from you. God, if other demons could see him now, backing away from a human like a rabbit cowering from a wolf.  


Malcolm walked out of the kitchen, making his way around the two of you.  


“It’s pretty bad.” He whispered as he passed you.  


You frowned, making a beeline for the kitchen.  


“Please wait!” Brahms blocked you with his lanky frame, his eyes desperate. “I can explain!”  


You gave Brahms an exasperated look before ducking under his arm, finally looking into the kitchen.  


Tons of little colored dots littered the cabinets, ceiling, and floor of your kitchen. Some had obviously been smeared around in an attempt to clean them up, to no avail.  


Everyone knew you were a slob, but your kitchen was the one sacred place in your entire life that you made a consistent effort to keep pristine.  


Brahms watched in terror as your eyes widened in disbelief, then recognition. He tucked his body up as small as he could, debating just fucking off back into the demon world and staying there for a few years until you calmed down.  


Malcolm sat in the living room, his ears peeled for when you finally absorbed what was in front of you and blew your top off at Brahms. His pulse raced with excitement when he thought about you getting angry enough at Brahms that you kicked him out for a night. The thought of having the night alone with you was something Malcolm never wanted before, but now that it was so close, he couldn’t wait.  


Malcolm covered his mouth, scared that once the screaming started he might laugh out loud.  


You shook your head, rage melting into exasperation as you covered your face with your hands. Brahms stepped closer, at first scared of the repercussions and now scared that he had made you cry, when he heard you giggle.  


The giggle was nearly silent, more of an aggressive breathing, which slowly got louder, your shoulders shaking as you laughed.  


“Um.” Brahms backed off again, confusion plain on his face. “(Y/n)?”  


Your hands dropped to your sides as you looked around the kitchen, unable to stop laughing. “Sorry!” You choked out, turning to him. “Just, the way you were acting, I thought there was going to be a dead body or a naked lady or-hell, I don’t know-Satan himself in here!”  


You shuffled over to Brahms, putting your head on his chest, still laughing as you lightly slapped his arm. “What the heck did you do to my kitchen?”  


Brahms looked down at you, eyes wide. “Um, I painted?”  


Slapping his arm again, you looked up at him, your cheeks red from laughing as you tried to pull yourself together. “Well, we’re going to have to paint again, I guess.” You nuzzled her face back in his chest. “You huge dork.”  


“Y-you’re not mad?” Brahms squeaked, gently touching your back.  


“Normally I’d be livid.” You mumbled into his chest. “But, I had a really good day today.” Getting up on your tip-toes, you pecked Brahms on the lips. “And I was picturing something so much worse than this when you asked me not to get mad.”  


“I’m so sorry.” Brahms tentatively hugged you. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”  


“I’ll hire someone to paint over it.” You hugged him back, still feeling the high of having a real moment of connection with for father earlier that day. Who cared about this stupid kitchen? You had a well-meaning boyfriend, a good job, and now maybe the beginnings of reconnecting with your father. “Did you eat today?”  


Brahms thought about it before realizing. “I didn’t, actually. I was so worried I forgot to be hungry.”  


You paused, and Brahms saw a hint of sadness in your expression when you asked, “Do you need to go eat?”  


Brahms quickly shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”  


“Really?” You said.  


Brahms nodded, smiling reassuringly at you. “I’m not hungry at all.”  


You smiled before turning back to the kitchen, barking out one last laugh. “I can’t believe you managed to do this.”  


Brahms leaned in, whispering. “I was painting with my wing and tail.”  


“I’d love to see it.” You whispered back.  


Brahms pointed over to the dining room table, that was completely covered in protective newspapers in order to prevent any more paint stains. Walking over, you looked at the paintings Brahms had made. You could tell which one he had made with his wing, and could make an educated guess at which one he had used his tail on.  


“These are beautiful, Brahms.” You looked at him, gently squeezing his arm. “Look, we’ll deal with the kitchen later. I kind of spent most of the day crying in my office, and I just want to nap.”  


Brahms frowned. “You were crying?”  


“Good crying.” You explained. “So, just don’t touch anything else until I wake up, okay?”  


Brahms nodded. “Can I nap with you?”  


You nodded, taking his hand and walking to the bedroom. “I wouldn’t object to that.”  


Malcolm sat in silent fury as he heard your bedroom door close behind you. What the hell had just happened? You were supposed to be angry at your weird boyfriend, but all you did was laugh and asked him if he ate today? What the hell was that?  


Malcolm stewed as he turned on the TV. Fine. Now that he lived here, he could be there at every turn whenever Brahms pissed you off. He just had to wait.


	22. Nap Sex

“Are you hungry?” You asked again as you undressed for bed.

“Not really. I was so scared that you would hate me forever when you got home I just haven’t thought about it.” Brahms turned back into his demon form, watching you quietly. “You’re really not mad?”

You smiled, sitting on your bed while nude. “Like I said, normally I would be, but I had a nice day today. Plus, I’m kind of amazed you managed to make such a mess.” You laid back on the bed, holding out your hand. “Can I feed you?”

Brahms perked up. “You want to?”

Nodding, you reached out, taking his clawed hand. “Just some gentle love making before my nap.”

“I’ve never been slow and gentle.” Brahms stepped closer, crawling over you. “I’d love to try it, if it’s anything like kissing.”

You giggled, wrapping your hands around his neck. “Didn’t you say kissing was useless?”

“Kissing is the most wonderful useless thing in the world.” Brahms kissed you deeply, and you could feel his lips curled up into a smile as he did. With one of his hands he propped himself above you, with the other he reached down, slowly rubbing your clit.

You reached up, running your hands up and down his arms. His scales tickled your fingers.

Brahms pulled back from the kiss, smiling. “Useless wonderful kissing.”

You continued running your hands over his arms and shoulders, enjoying the feeling of his scales on your fingertips. You moaned as he slipped a finger into you. Brahms nipped at your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m ready Brahmsy.” You purred.

Brahms nodded, taking both of your legs in his hands, pulling you to him. He leaned down, kissing you deeply as you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

A moan escaped your lips as he slipped into you as deep as he could go. Brahms ate up your moan, kissing you repeatedly as he began to move. He thrust slowly and deeply, his wings unfurling as he did, surrounding the two of you with a protective shield. 

You leaned up and kissed his chest, smiling at him. You had honestly been too tired for sex, but you wanted to give him what he needed. The slow pace was comforting, and you closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of Brahms moving with you.

Brahms watched you, admiring every twitch of your eyelashes, every crinkle of your nose. As he moved, he realized something was different. He wasn’t feeling fed. He may not have been hungry in the first place, but he wasn’t being fed by this.

He frowned slightly, confused. Brahms started moving faster, thinking for a moment that maybe slow sex was similar to kissing-useless but nice. However, he wasn’t feeling fed as he sped up either. 

“Slow, please?” You opened one of your eyes back up, peeking at him cutely. You had already half-fallen asleep under him.

Brahms smiled at the sight. “Sorry.” He slowed back down, reaching between your legs and working your clit. 

Though it didn’t feed him, Brahms felt a rush of pride as he felt your body convulse beneath him as you came. He slowly pulled out of you, watching your face twitch cutely at the sudden emptiness. He laid next to you, pulling you to his chest as your breathing evened and you fell asleep.


	23. First Missed Message

“Brahms?” You mumbled, gently shaking him awake. “Brahms?”

Brahms’ eyes slowly opened; his vision blurry for a moment as his eyes adjusted. You came into his line of vision as you leaned over him, your hair tickling his face as it brushed his nose.

“I didn’t know demons could fall asleep.” You said, resting your forehead on his.

Brahms instinctively wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His brow furrowed in confusion at your words, but he brushed the thought aside, instead focusing on the feeling of holding you.

“That nap went a little longer than expected.” You pulled back, picking your shirt up off the floor and pulling it on. “I’m starving.”

Brahms sat up, looking at the clock next to your bed. It was eight at night. Three hours just disappeared. Brahms frowned more deeply, his confusion only growing.

You looked at your phone, frowning when you saw you had a voicemail from your father. “Damn it.” You mumbled, holding the phone to your ear. “I knew today must’ve been too good to be true.”

“One new message. First skipped message: Hey, (y/n). I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go to dinner. Either tonight, or later this week is fine too. I heard through the grapevine you have a boyfriend now, I wanted to meet him. Call me back when you get the chance. Bye.” The recording started again, and you pressed the end button.

“Dad has never said ‘when you get the chance’ before.” You mumbled, beginning to think that the reconciliation the two of you had earlier that day wasn’t just a dream as you dialed his number. 

The phone rang a few times before you heard the undeniable sound of someone picking up on the other line. “Hello?” Your dad said.

“Hey, dad.” You said hesitantly, just waiting for the moment when everything that was said that day would be shattered and your father would go back to being his regular shitty self.

“Glad you caught me while it’s still relatively early. I wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up with me for dinner?” He asked. “If tonight is too late, maybe tomorrow?”

You sat there dumbfounded, your phone at your ear. Brahms noticed your silence and scooted closer, placing a hand on the small of your back and nuzzling his face in your shoulder to show support.

“I haven’t eaten yet.” You said slowly. “Who told you I had a boyfriend?”

There was silence from your father’s end. You thought for a moment that maybe he had just gotten distracted by something, but no sounds came from his line at all.

“I would love to meet him.” He finally said. “Is he available to meet us at Linguini’s tonight, basically as soon as we get off this phone call?” 

“Uh.” You looked over at Brahms before putting your hand on the receiver. “Can you eat food? Like, a whole meal’s worth?”

Brahms nodded slightly. “It doesn’t taste like anything, but we can.”

Uncovering the receiver you replied to your dad. “Yeah, we can meet up there.”

“Great. I’ll see you two there.” Your father said before hanging up.

You looked at your phone for a moment, wondering exactly what had happened to suddenly make your father a decent guy, before turning to Brahms.

“Well, I guess we’re meeting dad for dinner.” You said uncertainly. “How normal can you act for extended periods of time?”

Brahms chuckled and kissed your cheek, standing and creating his human Brahms illusion, but with slightly better clothes than usual. “As long as no one asks me to operate any human things, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You stood and got dressed, fixing your post-nap hair and getting your things together. “This is so weird, something just has to go wrong I just know it.”

Brahms watched you getting ready. He was enjoying being with you, but his mind still drifted to the nap he had apparently taken. 

“You coming?” You asked, breaking his train of thought. You hadn’t even waited for a reply, walking out into the apartment, gathering up anything else you might need. Brahms shuffled after you, a little relieved you weren’t exactly looking for conversation.

“What are you hurrying around for?” Malcolm asked, walking out of the living room and leaning on a wall, surprising both you and Brahms. Both of you had quite forgotten that he was there.

“Dinner with dad, to show off the boyfriend.” You said quickly, already heading toward the door.

Malcolm hummed cheekily. “Maybe you should take me, since at one point your father would have approved of it.”

“Hah.” You threw the fake laugh over your shoulder, too nervous and distracted to listen to or care about Malcolm’s lame jokes. “We’ll be back later tonight.”

Grabbing Brahms’ hand, the two of you exited the apartment, leaving Malcolm to himself.

He was frowning slightly at your lack of response before he shook his head huffily and walked back to the couch. “Usually my accent attracts everyone but no-.”


	24. Dinner

You stood in front of the restaurant with Brahms, shaking out your hands, imagining that all of your anxiety was like water, and you were flap-drying them off. It didn’t help.

Brahms watched you quietly, smiling slightly at you. He gently put his hand on the small of your back, moving you out of the middle of the doorway so that other patrons could come through.

“It seems like your dad has been nice today.” Brahms offered. “So why are you so nervous?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted. “I guess I want him to stay nice. And the more contact I have with him the less chance there is of that happening.”

“If this is all a trap and he ends up being mean, we can leave.” Brahms wrapped his arm around your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Easy.”

You smiled, pressing your head into his chest. “Everyone has always told me that cutting him off would be easy, but I never got around to doing that, either.” Pulling back, you faced the entrance once again. “No getting around this. Let’s go.”

Taking Brahms’ hand, you walked into the establishment.

Your father was already sitting at a table, and he waved his hand slightly when he saw the two of you arrive. You walked over, sitting across from him, Brahms taking up the seat next to you.

“Hi, dad.” You said, picking up a menu.

Your father smiled back slightly, his eyes glassy. “Hey. Order whatever you want.”

His expression seemed off, making you frown slightly. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He replied before looking at his own menu.

You thought about pressing the question further but decided against it, holding up your menu once again. You had never really had a family dinner with your dad that wasn’t also a business meeting, and with despair you realized that you didn’t have jack to talk about.

Brahms stared at your father for a while. Though he didn’t know your father very well or what was considered normal for him, even he could see something was wrong. His scent seemed off from the last time Brahms had been around him. However, Brahms realized, every scent was off. Brahms looked around, trying to figure out what it was that he was smelling. It wasn’t the smell of the humans around him, their scents were dull compared to this.

He sniffed, looking around some more.

A waiter walked past holding a plate of sizzling food, the steam wafting off of it like something in a cartoon. Brahms breathed in and realized that what he was smelling was food. Human food. How long had it been since he had smelled food? Since he was alive, he guessed.

His mouth watered as he followed the plate of sizzling meat with his eyes. Brahms felt something. It was like hunger, but not his usual hunger. Not the kind of hunger where his energy got weak and his focus was off, he could physically feel this in his stomach.

He gently tugged on your sleeve, getting your attention. You looked over at him, your face still a mask of concern for your dad’s current unusual state.

“I want that.” Brahms pointed at the sizzling food. “To eat.”

You nodded absentmindedly, looking back at the menu. “Okay, I’ll order for you.”

Brahms kept looking at the food, his brow twitching as he absorbed this new change in himself.

Meanwhile, you looked across the table at your dad, who was looking at his menu, but not absorbing it. You were beginning to get seriously concerned. What if your dad was having a stroke? That would make about as much sense as anything else that had happened that day.

Greta stood behind your father, invisible. If she had a heart it would have been pounding as she watched Brahms, who seemed completely oblivious to her presence. She had gotten a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched Brahms sniffing at the air, but Greta’s bad feeling only got worse when she realized that Brahms hadn’t been smelling her, but the food in the restaurant.

Greta wanted to sink into the floor. Her half-baked plan to control your father was honestly without a solid step two, but it turned out to be a good thing that she had started this whole endeavor.

Brahms’ supernatural senses were fading, and Greta was witnessing it firsthand. She felt like she was going to cry.

She noticed you staring at your dad, and Greta shook her head, snapping back to the task at hand. Leaning down, she whispered in your father’s ear. “Look at your child, smile, and wave down the waitress. Order your food.”

Your father’s head snapped up, making you jump. He smiled before raising his hand, waiving over the waitress.

“Are you guys ready?” The waitress smiled, pulling out a notebook.

“Yes ma’am.” Your father replied. “Waters for the table, and I’ll have a steak with mashed potatoes.”

As the waitress wrote that down and turned to you for your order, Greta whispered in his ear once again. “Once the waitress is gone, ask about Brahms. Be civil for now.”

Your father cleared his throat as the waitress left. “So, tell me about Brahms.”

You opened your mouth to reply when it died in your throat. “Did I tell you his name?”

“What?” Brahms asked, finally coming out of his stupor after hearing his name. He noticed your dad and nodded. “Yes, I’m Brahms. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Your dad replied.

Now both of them were acting weird. You leaned in close to Brahms and whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Just…hungry.” Brahms whispered back.

You made a face. “Do you need to leave?”

Brahms shook his head. “No, I’ll eat with you.”

You took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before you turned back to your father. “Yes, this is Brahms. He’s my boyfriend.”

Greta rubbed her temples, watching the entire awkward exchange. Not a single person at that table was behaving normally. When you whispered to Brahms about him needing to go eat, the gears in Greta’s head began turning.

Her face lit up when a real plan started forming.

She leaned down, whispering in your father’s ear. “Continue talking like normal, as if you approve of Brahms. At the end of the night, get your child alone and away from Brahms, and mention that you like him, that he seems like a good man. Explicitly mention that he seems like a faithful and trustworthy man. Somehow bring up an instance of your life when you were cheated on, and how much it hurt, and how you’re sure Brahms would never do that.”

Her grin got wider as she remembered something most humans cared about-faithfulness. It didn’t matter how much you cared about Brahms, or how you claimed to understand his needs. In the end, jealousy and insecurity would take over, Greta was sure of it.

She hovered behind your father, nodding to herself as she thought, newfound desperation to get Brahms back to normal helping to spur on her thought process.


	25. Taste

Brahms stared down the sizzling plate in front of him as it was sat down. The steam wafted off and the smell was strong. He vaguely heard the waitress warn him that the plate was hot, but Brahms could only focus on how his stomach rumbled for the first time since he was alive. 

Clumsily he picked up a fork, forgetting how silverware was usually held. He glanced over at your hand, mimicking how you held your silverware.

His stomach ached, partially from this new hunger, and partially from nervousness as he cut off a bit of sizzling meat. Jabbing the fork into the meat, he brought it to his nose, giving it a closer sniff. 

It smelled amazing, but it really was hot. The heat started making his nose run.

Brahms blew on the bite, trying to cool it down. Finally, he brought the bite to his mouth, slowly chewing it. 

The taste. The taste! It tasted like something! 

Tears sprang up in Brahms’ eyes as he slowly chewed, the juiciness of the meat and the spices on it almost too much for his previously-numbed tongue. His nose was still running a little, either from the heat or from his tears, he couldn’t tell.

“Brahms!” You gasped, finally noticing him. You touched his arm to get his attention. 

Brahms looked at you, still savoring his first bite.

“If it’s too hot, try breathing with your mouth open like this.” You mimicked eating food was too hot, where you press your mouth into an ‘O’ shape and quickly breathe in and out to cool down the food in your mouth. “It’ll help.”

Brahms chuckled, finally swallowing the bite. “I’m okay.”

“Well, obviously it was too hot.” You smiled, brushing away one of his tears with your thumb. “Be more careful.”

He smiled, picking up his napkin and wiping his eyes and nose. “S-sorry.”

You smiled back, turning to your food. “You’re adorably hopeless, Brahmsy.”

He watched you as you ate your food for a moment before turning back to his. Brahms felt himself smiling. Even though you had no idea what was going on, you were looking out for him.

He began eating again, savoring every moment of his meat before moving on to the sides. Vegetables were amazing! Why the hell did anyone ever try to say otherwise?

Taking a sip of his drink, he remembered that even water had a taste. A subtle taste, but it was there. He’d have to remember to try ice water back at your place to see if it was just as good. 

In the back of his mind, Brahms knew what this new development meant, and what it would mean in the future. For now, all it meant was that he truly did love you, so that’s what Brahms decided to focus on.


	26. Something Wrong

“Brahms, why don’t you go get my car back from the valet?” Your father said, handing Brahms his ticket.

Brahms blinked before nodding slowly, taking the ticket and heading out of the restaurant. He had been quiet all through dinner, but you figured he must have been focusing on not saying the wrong thing in front of your dad. 

Your father sat back in his seat, nodding slightly. You weren’t sure at what.

“He seems like a good man.” Your father said.

“He is.” You replied, nervously glancing at the door, hoping that Brahms knew what to do to get the car back.

“How long have you known him?” He asked.

You inwardly flinched at how briefly you truly knew the incubus. “A few days.”

You expected your dad to give you some shitty retort, but he just continued nodding. “I hope he treats you well.”

“Thanks, dad.” You said awkwardly. “You’re being very cool about the whole situation, considering how passionate you were about me marrying Malcolm a few days ago.”

Again, your father continued nodding slightly, his eyes not really focused on you. You were beginning to worry yet again that he was suffering from some sort of stroke when he finally spoke up.

“I hope he is faithful to you.” He said. “I was cheated on once, and it hurt me. Maybe that’s why I am how I am.”

“What?” You asked, frowning at the sudden proclamation.

“Well, you barely know him, I just hope he remains faithful to you.” Your father replied. “Can’t a dad wish that for their kid?”

“I guess, but that was kind of random.” You squirmed in your seat, getting uneasy. “We should probably follow Brahms out, he might have your car by now.”

“Right.” Your dad stood, beginning to walk without you. You quickly gathered your things and took off after him, your concern growing.

“Hey!” You took his arm, forcing him to turn to face you.

“Yes?” He asked calmly. No matter how much you were enjoying this reformed father of yours, you knew deep down that this wasn’t right. Only one day earlier he would have shouted to the high heavens at you for grabbing him so suddenly.

“Are you okay? Do you have like, feeling in both sides of your face, does your chest hurt or something?” You scanned his face for any sign of unevenness, but he just looked like himself. Just calmer. Maybe he was on drugs. 

“I’m fine. I just want you to be happy.” He said, turning back to the exit.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so badly, but you knew that you couldn’t. Trailing after him, you exited the restaurant together.

Brahms stood there awkwardly, holding the keys. “Here you go, sir.”

Your father took the keys, giving Brahms a nod. “Thank you. Goodnight you two.” With that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving the two of you standing there. 

“Did he seem off to you?” You asked Brahms.

“I honestly wouldn’t know ‘off’ if it bit me in the ass right now.” Brahms mumbled, taking your hand. “Lets go home, and we can talk there, okay?”

“I thought you said that you were hungry?” You asked. “Don’t you need to fly off and find some unsuspecting victim?”

“I only eat consensual.” Brahms joked, making you giggle as the two of you started to walk home. “But, no, I wasn’t hungry in the usual way.”

“Incubi can eat food food?” You rested your head on his shoulder as you walked.

Brahms paused, unsure if he should tell you about what was happening to him. He squeezed your hand, looking straight ahead. “I suppose so.”

You hummed in reply, finally relaxing after that incredibly awkward dinner.

He squeezed your hand, mumbling softly. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”

“We are on a walk.” You smiled, glancing up at him.

“A better walk, a romantic one. Tomorrow.” Brahms said. “Somewhere pretty.”

“I’d love to, but I have work tomorrow.” You said. 

“Oh, yeah.” Brahms felt himself mellow out a bit. Well, it didn’t have to be romantic. He’d find another way to spend time with you while he still could.


	27. Voices

“And how did it go?” Malcolm asked as the two of you re-entered your apartment. He was standing near the front entrance, and if you hadn’t of known better, you would have thought that he was waiting for the two of you to return. 

“As good as it could have been.” You said, kicking off your shoes. 

Malcolm nodded absentmindedly, casting an annoyed glance at Brahms, who had been quiet the entire way home. 

You noticed this sudden bout of hostility, and you raised your eyebrow at Malcolm, channeling all your pent up nervousness from dinner and throwing it at him.

“Malcolm, I can’t lie. You’ve been acting really weird since you asked to move in.” You brushed past him to the kitchen. “You want to tell me what’s up?”

Malcolm shook his head, following you. “I really wish that I could.” 

Chuckling, you poured yourself a glass of water, leaning on the counter. “You keeping secrets over there?”

Malcolm opened his mouth to try and articulate these weird feelings he was feeling that didn’t seem to belong to him. He wanted to tell you. He needed to tell you, because before anything else he wanted help. However, the words died on his tongue when Brahms walked into the kitchen behind him.

“No.” Malcolm finally said. “No, not keeping secrets. My first day of work is tomorrow, I guess I’m a little nervous.” He chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t know why I tried for that job anyway, my parents will cool off soon enough, and then everything will go back to normal.”

“It builds character.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink. 

“Who needs character when you have money?” Malcolm grinned. “That’s the whole point of building character, so that you can get enough jobs to get you a lot of money.”

Brahms chuckled slightly behind him, and the sound put Malcolm’s teeth on edge.

“I’ll be in bed, okay?” Brahms said, shaking his head slightly. “I’m kind of tired.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” You lifted up your glass. “Promise.”

Brahms smiled, shuffling off towards the bedroom.

Malcolm began to feel the feelings again, the feelings that weren’t his. His gaze fell on you as you set your glass in the sink, and suddenly his body was moving.

One step in front of the other his legs began to move. His arm reached out, his hand grabbing your shoulder and twisting you around to face him.

You were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear you. All he could hear was the sound of a voice he didn’t recognize telling him that he loved you, and that he had to have you. The woman’s voice was smooth, and melodic, and something about it made everything else fade away, until all that was left was what the voice was telling him to do.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeated after the voice, squeezing your arms tightly. “Brahms isn’t your kind, you belong with me.”

“What the hell?” You snapped, pulling Malcolm back to reality. And his body was his again.

He pulled away from you, looking down at his hands as if they weren’t his own.

“We didn’t even like each other when we were supposed to get married, and now that we finally got what we both want - which is, again, to not be married – you say you love me?” You snapped.

“I-I know that it doesn’t make sense.” Malcolm stammered, backing away. “I don’t know what’s happening!”

“I think you should leave.” You crossed your arms. “Please.”

Malcolm backed away. “But I have nowhere to go.”

“You’ll find somewhere to go.” You said, frowning. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Malcolm said weakly. 

“But you did. Please, out.” You brushed past him, grabbing his bag and tossing it to him.

Malcolm caught it, feeling the urge to once again grab you and insist that the two of you had to be together. The voice in his head tried to drown out his thoughts, but Malcolm wouldn’t let this happen again. 

He turned, running out of the apartment while he still had a shred of himself left to hold on to, locking the door behind him so he couldn’t run back inside. 

The moment he was out of your home, the voice stopped. Malcolm sighed, pressing his back against the wall, breaking out in a sweat. He’d never see you again if he could help it. Especially if you made him hear voices.


	28. Human

Brahms stepped out of the bedroom. “Is everything alright? I heard shouting.”

You hugged yourself, frowning. “Malcolm just got really weird all of a sudden. I don’t know.”

Brahms walked over, taking your hands and un-folding them from in front of you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “He didn’t hurt me, he just suddenly started saying that we were meant to be together, it was weird.”

Brahms raised his eyebrow. “You and me?”

“No, me and him.” You rested your head on Brahms’ chest. “Today has been so weird, on so many levels. I’m tired.”

“Let’s get you to bed.” Brahms said, picking you up. “A nice shower and then sleep.”

“That does sound nice.” You mumbled into his chest. 

“Good.” He said as he walked to your bathroom, setting you down on the side of the tub and unbuttoning your shirt.

“Wait, didn’t you say you were hungry?” You perked up a bit, putting your hand on his cheek. “Do you need to go out?”

He chuckled, focusing on your shirt. “I don’t right now.”

You paused, remembering your father’s words from dinner. God, it felt like a million years ago and it had only happened an hour ago. All this demon business was wearing you down. “I don’t mind. You can go out and eat if you want.”

He shook his head, slipping your shirt off of your shoulders. “I don’t have to.”

“But you said you were hungry!” You snapped before you could help it. Brahms gave you a surprised look, and you shrank back, instantly feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. It’s just that, I don’t want you to lie to me. If you’re going to go eat, do it, but don’t lie to me about it.”

Brahms nodded slightly, slipping your pants off of you. “I understand. But I’m being honest, I won’t be going out and having sex with anyone tonight.”

You felt your cheeks heating up, reaching out and slipping his shirt off him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He kissed your forehead as soon as his shirt was off. “Let’s shower.” He said, standing and taking off his pants.

Nodding, you turned and started the water, getting in. You focused on the feeling of the water trickling down your body, letting out a long, tired sigh. The water was hot almost to the point of hurting, but you didn’t mind it as you let it wash over you. Brahms stepped in behind you, still in his human form.

“Don’t you want to be yourself right now?” You asked. “You’ve been in disguise all day.”

Brahms smiled and shook his head again. “I’m okay like this.”

Shrugging, you scooted out of the way so he could take his turn in the water. Brahms stepped inside, immediately flinching back.

“Ow, damn.” He cursed, reaching around the water and turning it down. 

You snorted out a laugh, scrubbing soap over you. “That’s hot to you?”

“Guess so.” He stepped inside as the water cooled, running his hands through his hair.

“There was no way that water was hotter than hell. Literally, there is no way.” You laughed at the word choice, smiling at him, feeling a bit of weight come off your shoulders as you allowed yourself to relax.

Brahms chuckled and flicked water in your direction. “Maybe I’m just adjusting to earth temperatures too well.”

“Maybe.” You chuckled as you got back in the water, turning it back up. 

Brahms grabbed the soap, cleaning himself with it. “I would like to have sex with you.”

“What a proposal.” You joked, rinsing off. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry?”

“I’m not.” Brahms took your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. His fingers were soapy, and he spread bubbles onto your skin. “I want to have sex with you because I want to. And I want you to have sex with me because you want to.”

Taken aback by his sudden change in tone, you floundered as you tried to come up with a reply. “Well, yeah.”

“‘Yeah’?” He smiled. “What’s that mean?”

“I mean, yeah, I would like to have sex with you too.” You said lamely. 

He pulled you to him, the soap on his body spreading to you as he did so. You made an annoyed noise, and Brahms laughed, bringing his hands to your face. 

“Not because I’m hungry.” He said softly, his eyes trailing over your face as if he was trying to memorize it. “And not because I am an incubus. I want to feel you beside me. On top of me, under me. I want you and me to become one for a while.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his bangs dripping water onto your cheeks. “I want to have sex so that we both feel good together, both gaining the same things. I want to have sex with you because I love you.”

Air came out of your mouth in lieu of a real reply. If your skin hadn’t already been red from the water, it would’ve been after his speech. You laughed slightly, looking away from his intense gaze.

“I would have done it if you had just asked, you don’t have to talk like that.” You finally said, turning and re-rinsing off. 

He smiled, turning the water down and getting in, rinsing off as well. “But I don’t want you to do it because I asked.”

“Isn’t that the same as me wanting it?” You said hurriedly, stepping out of the shower and drying off, happy to not see him for a moment. 

“I’m honestly not sure sometimes.” Brahms turned off the water, looking at his hand. It looked human, and it felt human. There was so much about being human he had forgotten. He tried to see his regular hand, the one with dark scales and sharp claws, tried to bring it forth, drop his human form for a moment. But he couldn’t. 

Brahms held his breath, trying to drop this human façade, to find that it wasn’t a façade at all, not anymore. His heart sped up at the realization, and then it sped up all the more when he realized he felt a heartbeat in his chest. 

He clutched at his chest, feeling the thumping of the long-dead organ. It was scarier than he thought this would be, the feeling of being alive. It felt fragile. And who knew how long it could last?

Maybe being human would be like riding a bike. He’d get used to it with a little time, he just had to remember.

Brahms stepped out of the shower, taking your towel and drying himself off. 

You began brushing your teeth, his speech still circulating in your head. Brahms kissed your shoulder and walked to the bedroom.


	29. Not Sexy Sex

You watched Brahms’ back as he sat on the bed. He smiled at you softly, holding out a hand to you as you walked towards him. You took his hand, him pulling you onto his lap. 

He breathed out a sigh of contentment as he held you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. Brahms nuzzled his face in your neck as he ran a hand up and down your back. 

You hummed softly, gently tilting his head up so you could get a look at him. “Is everything okay?”

Brahms smiled, nuzzling his face in your hands. “Why would you ask that?”

“You just seem a little wistful.” You smiled back, kissing his forehead.

“I might be.” Brahms laid back on the bed. He pulled you into a soft kiss, making you wrap your legs around him. “I just love you.”

Giggling, you gently ground on him. “You’re so soft for a demon. I forget you’re one half the time.”

“Well, living to fuck is only fun for the first few hundred years.” Brahms grinned, grinding back on you. “After that, you start feeling kind of like you’re missing something.”

You began kissing up and down his neck, sucking gently. Brahms moaned softly, cupping your ass as you sucked on his neck.

“Can I leave a mark?” You mumbled against his skin. 

“Always, as many as you want.” Brahms gave your ass a squeeze for emphasis. “I always want your mark on me.”

Giggling softly at his eagerness, you continued sucking and nibbling on his neck, feeling him grow hard beneath you. You pulled back, smiling at the dark red mark you had left behind. 

“Can I leave a mark on you too?” Brahms asked.

“Sorry, I can’t have any marks on me.” You apologized, rubbing yourself on his hard dick. You actually weren’t that in the mood, but you just felt like being intimate with him. “I have to look professional for work.”

Brahms pouted slightly. “Okay.”

You moaned quietly as you sank down on his length. “Don’t incubi have a way to mark people?”

He chuckled, rolling his hips slowly. “Where would you get that idea?”

“I don’t know, in erotica books with hot monsters, they usually have a way to mark their mates.” You giggled, beginning to work up and down his cock. It was interesting to have sex while not in the mood. If felt nice, but you were having fun just talking.

Brahms laughed breathily, bucking his hips up into yours. “Incubi don’t have constant mates, there would be no reason to mark someone.”

Laughing, you started bouncing on him harder. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m your constant mate now, why don’t you try marking me?”

Moaning softly, Brahms pulled you down to him, still moving with you. “But you said no.”

“I meant with your demon powers!” You smiled, losing your breath from being on top. You nuzzled your face in his hair as you moved, a relieved, happy feeling spreading through your chest. Sex had never been so fun before. It wasn’t that sexy, but it was fun. “Try to!”

Brahms went silent beneath you, his thrusts slowing. You raised your head slightly, but Brahms stopped your ascent by wrapping his arms around you. He flipped you over so he was on top, pulling back and smiling at you.

“I can’t.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I would if I could, I promise.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek as he began thrusting into you again. “You know, you sex demons should just come out to the world. Monster fucking has, like, its whole own section of the internet.”

Brahms blew air out his nose in a laugh, kissing around your chest. “Did you like my demon form?”

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy, in a Halloween kind of way.” You smiled. “And I always did like the villainous-looking types.”

Smiling, Brahms held you tightly as he thrust into you. “This is nice. Having sex like this is nice.”

“It is!” You giggled, hugging him back. “I’m not sure I’ll cum, but this is kind of, relaxing, I guess? In a weird way?”

Brahms laughed, kissing your ear. “We can stop in a bit. I’m having fun too.”

“I thought your powers could make people insta-cum?” You teased, running your nails up and down his back.

He paused, stopping his thrusting. “They usually could.”

You sat up, moving away from him. Anti-climactic in every sense of the word, but truly had enjoyed just feeling him and being with him, even without the objective of finishing. You kissed his cheek.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” You asked, scooching back to your sleeping spot on the bed. “You’ve seemed a little off since dinner.”

“I’ll be fine.” Brahms sat next to you, taking your hand. “It’s about time you go to bed, you have work in the morning.”

“You can talk to me you know.” You slipped under the covers, lifting them up for him. Brahms slipped in next to you, pulling you close to his chest.

“I know, sweet thing.” He mumbled, burying his face in your hair.


	30. Sleeping Through You

Greta hovered over Brahms’ sleeping form, her heart sinking. Since dinner, she had stuck to his side and not left once, not bothering to hide her presence from him, because it didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her anyway.

She stared down at his sleeping face, his sleeping human face. The face that Greta had rarely ever seen, because he had only ever shown it to his human food. 

Her eyes burned as she looked down at him. “You idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.” She sniffed, wiping her nose on her wrist. 

He looked soft without his scales, and the small horns that protruded from his eye. He was smaller in this form too. By at least a foot. His muscles weren’t spectacular either. No wings, no powers, there was nothing going for him here. 

Greta sat on the edge of the bed, frowning as Brahms reached over to you in his sleep, pulling you to his chest. 

Her shoulders slumped at the sight. Her need to get him away from you wasn’t just jealousy. She was scared for Brahms. 

Sex demons who fell in love with humans never got happy endings. She had never heard of an instance where everything worked out for the demon. They didn’t deserve happiness. God wouldn’t allow them to go unpunished. 

Greta had gone through it, Brahms had gone through it, every sex demon in existence had done it. Traded their humanity for immortality, on the condition that they lived for the sin of lust. 

When it had been Greta’s time to die, she was being strangled. The details of her human life had been fuzzy, she couldn’t remember who had been hurting her, only that she had trusted them. She had wanted to live so badly that the moment of her dying breath the devil had appeared before her, offering her the chance to live forever.

That memory was fuzzy too. She thought she had seen a comforting light behind the devil, a light she had later figured must have been heaven. 

She had probably been tricked. Heaven was probably the better option. The neat and tidy ‘happy ending.’ But fear and the desire to cheat death had been too strong, and she had chosen this path, so she was going to live by it.

The spikes that protruded from her neck were the constant reminder of her own death.

She knew bits of Brahms’ story as well. He had been abused by his parents, burned, and shoved in a wall until he was an adult. Greta figured he must have gotten the same deal after he had died.

Sighing, she shook her head, looking down at the two of you, sleeping soundly. It looked like a happy ending to her. But it was too weak; too fragile. It couldn’t last. She knew it, and – no matter how deep down – she knew that Brahms must have known it as well.

Greta lied on the bed in your spot, in your exact position, her body ethereally lying in your place, in the exact same position as you, and for a moment, she pretended she was in your place. 

Her eyes scanned Brahms’ face, wondering if this was what he looked like when he was human. He pulled you closer, and Greta moved with your body.

“I can’t lose you.” She said in her normal voice, hoping against hope that he would hear her and stir. But he continued sleeping soundly. “I don’t care if you hate me, I’m going to stop this.”

He continued sleeping, his breathing slow and even. Greta frowned.

She balled her hands into fists, screaming at the top of her lungs. “I’ll let you hate me for all eternity as long as you can see me!”

There was still no sign he had heard her.

Sighing, Greta sat up, her chest ablaze with a new purpose. To undo what was happening, to undo what had been done. No matter the consequences. 

Sitting up, she flew from the bed, looking back down at your sleeping forms. No longer would she beat around the bush, try to make you stop loving him, or he you. 

No longer was she going to follow the rules of the human world. This was a matter of saving her only friend, and all was fair in war.


	31. Scar

When you first opened your eyes in the morning, the first thing you did was scream in surprise, shooting up in bed.

“What, what?” Brahms sat up, his hair wild and blinking his eyes quickly, trying to wake up quickly. 

You put your hands over your mouth, your fear quickly changing to tired confusion as you calmed down. Tentatively, you reached out your hand, almost drawing back, touching his cheek.

“What happened?” You whispered, looking at the large scar that now took up most of his face. 

Brahms frowned, yawning softly and getting out form under the covers. “What do you mean?”

“Is this the scar you didn’t want to show me?” You asked, flinching at the sight of it. It looked painful, but it also looked old, and stretched. As if whatever had hurt him had happened when he was a child, and as he grew, the scar had too. 

Frowning in sleepy confusion, Brahms’ hand flew to his face, feeling around for whatever you were talking about. When his fingers touched the rough flesh of the scar tissue, his eyes focused with recognition. 

He sprang from the bed, rushing to the bathroom and looking in the mirror. His shoulders slumped when he saw his old burn scar glaring back at him where his reflection should have been.

“No, no no.” He shook his head, clawing at the scar as if he could peel it off. “Please, God, please.”

“Brahms?” You wrapped the comforter around your shoulders, staring at him in fear as you followed him to the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I thought I’d have more time than this.” Brahms glanced back at you before becoming transfixed once again by his reflection. “Please, God, just a little more time.”

“Brahms!” You grabbed his arm, your heart facing in fear. “What’s going on?”

He turned back to you, tears in his eyes. “I can’t make it go away.”

“Y-your powers are gone?” You wiped away a tear from his cheek, only more confused than before.

“They’ve been gone for a whole day, maybe two!” Brahms snapped, looking back at the mirror. “But, I thought I’d have more time than this.”

You grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face you. You grabbed his other arm, shaking him slightly. “What does that mean?” 

Brahms sniffed, his eyes shifting around in a panic, his breath quick and agitated. “It-.” He sniffed, craning his neck to look back at the mirror. 

You let go of his arm, gently cupping his cheek and forcing his head back to facing you. “Brahms, talk to me.”

He swallowed, nodding slightly before he spoke again. “It means I’m almost out of time.”

“Out of time, what does that mean?” You asked, your heart finally slowing as Brahms calmed down as well. 

His lip trembled, his hand self-consciously raising his hand to cover the scar. “It means I don’t have much time left here.”

You shook your head in confusion, about to beg him to tell you what that meant, when there was a slamming against your loft door.


	32. Everyone Else's Morning

When Malcolm woke up, he was in his hotel. He blinked slowly, feeling hungover even though he knew he hadn’t been drinking the night before. His phone was ringing an alarm, jostling him out of restless sleep. 

He sat up in bed, blinking quickly, trying to remember why he had set an alarm in the first place. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing in irritation. 

Malcolm’s eyes flew open when he realized: His first day at work was today.

Flying from bed, he pulled on his clothes, hopping around to get his leg into his pants. He stuck his head under the sink faucet in the bathroom, swishing a mouthful of water around in his mouth to simulate brushing his teeth.

As he pulled on his shoes, he heard the whispering of a woman in his ear. It was soft, but unmistakable. The same voice that had tried to take him over the night before. The same voice that had been haunting him.

“Stop.” He growled in frustration, hurrying out of his hotel room. He took the stairs instead of the elevator down, using the physical exertion to try and distract his mind from the hypnotic voice. 

Malcolm jogged to the grocery store, the voice growing louder in his mind. He stood at the front door, which was still locked, lightly knocking on it. 

The cashier he had met the night he first heard about the job poked her head out of one of the isles, smiling when she saw him. She hurried to the door, opening it for him.

“Welcome to your first day.” She smiled, and for a moment, he felt lighter. 

The voice grew louder in response to his one moment of clarity, not allowing him a break from what he was going through. 

He shook his head slightly, walking past her inside. “Thanks. What do I do?”

“Well, the manager is doing manager stuff in his office right now.” She said. “But if your first day is anything like mine was, you’ll probably just be stuck in the back room watching safety and procedure videos all day.”

“I was hoping to jump right in.” Malcolm admitted. “I can’t handle being bored right now.” Because I’m hearing a voice telling me to do things.

The girl chuckled, holding out her hand. “I’m Mary, by the way.”

He took it, giving her a small smile. “Hi, Mary.”

She smiled more, handing him a broom. “Start sweeping. The manager will think you’re a hard worker if he catches you cleaning without being asked.”

“That’s a good idea.” Malcolm chuckled, beginning to sweep. “Thank you. For telling me about this job.” 

Mary grinned in reply as the manager walked out of the office. “New guy? Cleaning? Good for you. Follow me, we’re understaffed and need you in working order ASAP.”

Malcolm handed Mary the brook, hurrying after the manager, who took him to a back room full of boxes. The manager led him to an old computer, turning it on, and pulling a file out of a drawer while the computer rebooted. 

“So, you’ll need to watch the training videos and go through the modules after. Once that’s done, read this packet and sign it. If you get done early I’ll have you shadow one of our other delivery boys. You’re not in the system yet so make sure to keep track of when you started and when you go home.” The manager spoke quickly, obviously wanting to get back to his work as fast as possible.

Malcolm nodded, desperately trying to listen to what his new boss was saying over the voice screaming in his ear. He looked at the screen as his boss clicked on the first file, showing five different videos that Malcolm was going to have to watch.

“The videos will be broken up with quizzes to make sure you’re paying attention. If you don’t pass the section will start over.” The manager said. “Come out when you’re done.”

With that, the manager walked away, leaving Malcolm alone with thoughts that weren’t his. 

Sighing heavily, Malcolm clicked on the first video, watching it go but not absorbing it. A cartoon woman was on the screen, with a feminine voice going over something about paid and unpaid breaks. The graphics left a lot to be desired, and even if Malcolm wasn’t wrestling with increasingly violent instructions from the voice in his ear.

He was beginning to feel sick. Malcolm brought his hand to his mouth, trying to breath slowly, tying to center himself. 

“Stop.” He whimpered. 

The voice grew louder, the instructions more specific, and Malcolm could feel his resolve and his control failing him.

“Please stop.” He tried again, falling from his chair and tucking himself up against a corner of the desk. 

The narrator’s voice on the video droned on, the other voice screaming, mudding his thoughts, making him want to break down and cry.

“All full-time employees will get one paid fifteen-minute break and one unpaid meal break per shift. Breaks can not be taken to go home early.” The computer said. 

“I don’t want to.” Malcolm put his hands over his ears, shaking his head. “Stop telling me to!”

‘Do as I say!’ The woman’s voice screamed. ‘Do as I say!’

“No!” Malcolm snapped, looking around the back room feverishly. “I like (y/n), I don’t want to hurt her!”

For a moment, the voice went silent. Malcolm tentatively took his hands off his ears, looking around.

“Now that we’re done with section one, it’s time for the quiz to see what you learned.” The computer droned, and then it became silent as well.

Malcolm stood, looking around. There was no sound except for the heating system and the sound of people walking around in the store.

Carefully, he sat back in his seat, looking at the questions on the quiz. 

“I don’t know any of this.” He said to himself. He waited for the voice to come back, but it didn’t. 

He had to re-watch the video after failing the quiz, and as time went on, he grew more and more worried about you. 

Malcolm looked around, making sure no one was watching him when he pulled out his phone, deciding to call you.

***

Your father sat at his kitchen table, head in his hands. He had woken up feeling exhausted, and the closest he had gotten to leaving the house and going to work was making himself coffee. He had hoped that the coffee would wake him up, but all that it had done was make him need to use the restroom.

The last few days had been nothing but a haze. He could barely remember anything that had happened. It would have bothered him, but it felt as if he didn’t have the capacity to be worried at the moment.

He figured, maybe he was just tired.

Until a voice started talking to him, and any and all thoughts of his own went out the window. 

He stood, walking to his room, retrieving what the voice told him to retrieve. He then got on his phone and called a taxi. Your loft was his next stop.


	33. Knocking

You put on a robe, heading for the door, mind whirling. The persistent banging on your door didn’t help your tired confused brain try to focus. Your hand was on the knob to open the door, but something in the way the person was knocking stopped you. It sounded frantic, desperate. 

Aligning your eye with the peephole, you peeked outside to see who was trying to kick down your door. Outside your door was your father, ramming his fist against your door as if it owed him money. 

Though you couldn’t see him well, something about him seemed off. Your father had done a lot of things to control you over the years, but showing up randomly at your place of residence was never one of them. 

“Dad?” You called through the door, watching for his reaction.

He didn’t reply, he just kept knocking.

“Dad, you’re scaring me!” You yelled.

Still, the knocking persisted.

You turned to Brahms. “Brahms, do something! Go through the door and see why he’s acting like this.”

Brahms shook his head helplessly, looking as scared as you felt as he held up his hands. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” You pressed your back against the door, your heart racing, beginning to fear that your father would try to kick it down.

“I’m human now. I can’t-. I have no magic, I have no time left!” Brahms whimpered, joining you at the door and pressing his back against it with you.

The door rattled and shook against your back, jostling your whole body as you barricaded the door. “What do you mean you don’t have any time left?”

Your phone began to ring, making you jump out of your skin. It couldn’t be Kevin, you weren’t late to work yet. But, being reminded of your phone did open up new options. But should you call the police on your own father just because he was acting strange? 

“Brahms, hold the door.” You commanded, breaking away from the door, racing toward your phone and hitting the call button, ready to tell whoever the hell was on the other end to call the cops. “Hello?”

“(Y/N!)” Malcolm’s voice crackled on the other end.

“Malcolm?” You asked, heading back to the front door and meeting back up with Brahms, your teeth chattering when your father hit a particularly harsh blow against the door. “Why are you calling me!”

“I can’t explain it, and please listen to me and don’t think I’m crazy.” Malcolm said quickly. It sounded like he was trying to keep his voice low. 

“I can’t really afford to listen to your apology about your weird breakdown last night, I’m in kind of a situation here!” You grunted, pressing yourself harder against the door to keep your teeth from chattering. It didn’t seem like your dad was trying too hard to get in. It was like he was just making noises. Loud, scary ones, but surely he could have kicked the door down by now? And if not, then your door was much stronger than you’d ever given it credit for.

“This isn’t an apology, but it is an explanation!” Malcolm hissed. “I think something is trying to hurt you!”

You stilled. “Something?”

“Something has been whispering in my ear for days now.” Malcolm said. He sounded nervous, as if he was still on the fence about telling you all this. “I can’t remember everything it said, but it was all about you. My head feels fuzzy. I feel sick. I know it’s probably just something wrong with me, but, for some reason I don’t think these are my thoughts. I’m scared for you.”

You stilled, slowly pushing away from the door and looking back through the peephole. Your father continued banging on the door with as much force as he could muster. It looked like he was beginning to get sweaty. His mouth hung open as he breathed, his hand slamming against the door. 

He wasn’t trying to get in.

Stepping away from the door, your slowly turned looking around your apartment as if it were a foreign place. Brahms watched you in confusion, his back still pressed against the door. 

“Malcolm, I think you’re right.” You said softly.

“How perceptive.” A feminine voice cut through the slamming noises, chilling you to the bone. 

Greta appeared at your bedroom door in her succubus form, twirling a gun around in her hand. “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to catch on.”

“Greta?” Brahms gasped.

“What the hell did you do to my father?” You snapped, letting your hand drop to your side. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

“Daddy dearest is just a distraction.” She pointed the gun at your chest. “I’m killing you.”


	34. Gun

“No, no, no!” Brahms got in front of you, pushing you behind him back to the door, holding out his hand as if he could block a bullet with it. “Greta, no, you don’t want to do this-!”

“But I do!” Greta shouted, her fanglike teeth seeming sharper than usual, his gray eyes looking past her oldest friend to you. “Because if she dies, you might live!”

“Greta, Greta.” Brahms said soothingly, slowly lifting his other hand to the scar on his eye. “Look at me. It’s too late. This is what I wanted.”

Greta’s eyes grew wet as she glared Brahms down. Her wings quivered and her tail swished behind her, but the gun remained steady in her hand. “Why the hell do you want to disappear?”

The two of them had to shout to be heard over the banging from the other side of the door – you prayed that someone would call the police on your own father for the racket he was making. The thumps and knocks mimicked the racing of your heart in your chest as your fate was being decided by two demons.

“I don’t want to disappear.” Brahms said as softly as the knocking would allow. “I wanted to be human, and to be in love. And I got it.”

Greta grit her teeth. “I’m not letting this happen to you!”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” You knew you should have kept your head down, let them fight it out amongst themselves and pray Brahms could somehow convince Greta to let you live, but you had no idea what they were saying. 

“You stay out of it!” Greta took a step forward, her large succubus form towering over both you and Brahms. 

Everything about her radiated power and rage, her wings spreading behind her, darkening the room as her wingspan blocked out the light. Her thick black hair floated around her face, magical energy surrounding her as her anger came out in the form of power.

Brahms kept holding up his hands, backing up so he could better block you if she pulled the trigger. “You can’t make this choice for me.”

The entire loft crackled with electricity as she ignored Brahms, continuing to glare you down, hot, desperate tears forming in her eyes. “This is all your fault!”

Reaching out, your get twisting in fear, you clung to the back of Brahms’ shirt. You didn’t realize you had started shaking until you saw how your hands shook as you held onto Brahms for dear life.

Behind you, the front door only rattled you further, as Greta had backed the two of you against it. Your father continued to slam his body against it, making it hard for you to think, only making everyone’s nerve more on edge than they were before.

“Brahms, please, why is she doing this?” You whimpered. If you were going to die here, you wanted to at least understand why.

Brahms reached behind him, gently squeezing your thigh as reassuringly as he could. “Because I’m going to disappear.”

Through all the chaos, the noise, the fear, your mind seemed to freeze as you took in his words. “What?”

Greta laughed in disbelief. “She doesn’t even know?”

“I thought I’d have more time!” Brahms snapped.

“Brahms?” You whispered. “You’re going to disappear?”

Chuckling, Greta finally lowered the gun, crossing her arms, her mood lightening by just the tiniest bit. “Why don’t you tell her, Brahms? Tell her what she’s doing to you.”

Brahms glared at her, turning to you, making sure he was still blocking you from Greta in case this was a trick. He gently held your arms, looking at you with soft, tired eyes. He ran his thumbs over your arms, wetting his lips nervously before he spoke.

“When an incubus falls in love, in real, true love, they turn back into their human form, no powers, no nothing.” He started slowly, glancing around nervously, on edge with Greta standing right behind him with a gun. “But that only lasts for a while. Their human form gets closer and closer to how they were when they died.”

Your eyes flew to his scar, at the very thing he refused to show you a few days ago because he was so ashamed of it. He nodded slightly, predicting your thought process. 

“And then, they die.” He said, his voice cracking. “And they don’t get to heaven or to hell. They disappear. Hell doesn’t want a reformed sinner. And heaven can’t take in a demon.”

The room felt as though it was spinning. You looked Brahms up and down, frowning deeply as you took in his words. “You’re going to disappear?”

He nodded slowly. “That’s what I meant when I said I thought I’d have more time.”

Greta lazily eyed the gun behind him, surprised by her own patience. Since he was just a human now, she could easily toss him out of the way and just kill you. But she would let this realization that it was your fault that Brahms was dying sink in first. 

You stammered, having so many questions and no clear place to start. Brahms kissed you on the forehead before turning back to Greta. 

“Killing her won’t change anything.” Brahms held up his hands, slowly reaching for the gun. 

Greta growled, pointing the gun at him in warning, making him back up. “Maybe if the thing you love dies, this will all be reversed.”

“I’d still be in love, her being alive or dead wouldn’t change that.” He said. “You only think that would work because you don’t remember what love is.”

“I know what love is!” She bellowed, a gust of wind swirling around her. The lights in the apartment went out. And the knocking stopped. There was silence. 

Greta’s eyes welled again. “I know what love is.” She repeated. “And it means that I won’t let you vanish.”

“I don’t want that to happen either.” You piped up. 

The two of them looked at you. Though this whole disaster was about whether or not you’d get murdered, it seemed they had almost forgotten you were there.

You reached out, touching Brahms’ arm. “How can we stop it?”

“I know how.” 

What happened next seemed to happen both in slow motion, and incredibly sped up to the point you couldn’t tell what was happening. Greta shoved Brahms out of the way, pointing the gun at your chest. Your hands flew up uselessly, unable to block what would inevitably happen next. 

Brahms’s hand shot out grabbing Greta’s wrist as she began to pull the trigger. He pulled the gun towards himself. The gun fired, the bullet hitting him square in the chest.

You screamed. Greta screamed. No noise came from Brahms as he fall against the wall, sliding down it. The two of you dove for him, falling to your knees. 

You touched his chest, tears falling from your eyes as you looked at his wound. He wasn’t bleeding, but the bullet hole was there. You remember asking him something, how to fix it, how to make it better. There was no blood so you couldn’t put pressure on it.

Across from you, Greta was sobbing, putting her hands on his chest as if she could take back the gunshot.

Brahms offered the two of you a weak smile. He took one of Greta’s frantic hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He turned his head to you, putting his hand on the back of your neck and slowly lowering you down until your foreheads were touching.

He told you he loved you. 

That this was going to happen anyway.

So it’s okay.

Greta was rambling about something, talking so fast you couldn’t understand her. The gun was on the floor, forgotten. 

Your vision blurred with tears as Brahms smiled at you again. 

The lights turned back on. Or, you thought that they had. But the light wasn’t coming from the windows or any lamps. It was coming from Brahms. It was a dull light, but it was unmistakable. 

Greta pulled away, shock and confusion on her face. You were as confused as her, but you held on tight to Brahms, refusing to let him go. 

Until there was nothing for you to hold on to. 

Brahms was gone, leaving nothing in his wake. You clung to the air, your tears wetting your shirt as you desperately clawed at nothingness to feel him there again. 

You turned to Greta, who was staring down the space he was just taking up with wide eyes. You knew you should have felt anger, rage, but you were too focused on Brahms to feel any animosity towards her.

“What happened to him?” You sobbed. 

She looked at you, her mouth opening and closing for a moment before she could find her words. “I don’t know.”

“Is that what happens when an incubus disappears?” You covered your mouth with your hand, should entire body wracking with sobs.

She shook her head slowly. “It’s-it’s supposed to be more gruesome. That was peaceful.”

Your despair was beginning to finally turn to rage as the two of you sat there sobbing together. You balled your hands into tight fists, your arms shaking, wanting to hit her, wanting to kill her, but there was a knock on your door. 

“Police!” A voice called. “We got a call about a domestic disturbance!”

Greta disappeared, her will to kill you gone. No point now. Brahms was gone and it was her fault. 

You straightened up, now alone in your apartment. You didn’t bother to wipe away your tears when you opened the door to see two police officers on the other side. One was standing, the other one was kneeling down by your father’s unconscious form.

“We got a call from your friend asking us to check up on you after a disturbing phone call.” The officer said, looking down at your dad. “Do you know this man?”

You quickly wiped your eyes, your frazzled brain trying to come up with a quick excuse for the scene.

“That’s my dad. I was on the phone with my friend when he started knocking on the door. We had a fight last night, and I wouldn’t let him in.” You said, trying to compose yourself. “It’s okay now, I think he might have had a panic attack or something and passed out.”

The officer raised his eyebrow slightly, and he continued asking questions, and you continued lying. It dragged on forever. You just wanted to go into your room and cry. 

You took your father, letting the policeman know you weren’t going to press charges, and that everything was okay, you were going to let your dad rest in your apartment, that you had calmed down.

They left, and you slung your dad’s arm over your shoulder, drug him to the couch, and shoved him down on it as your phone began to ring.

Kevin was calling, asking where you were. You told him you were sick. 

You dragged your exhausted body to your bedroom, grabbing the gun off the floor. You barricaded the door with a chair just in case your dad was still being manipulated.

Falling onto the bed, you began to sob with new vigor.


	35. Seven Months Later

“Put that over there.” Malcolm instructed.

Rolling your eyes, you picked up the small side table, walking it next to the couch. “You know, you could help, you useless brit.”

Malcolm stretched out his arms, groaning exaggeratedly. “My back is sore from slinging groceries all day.”

“Yeah, lifting all those loaves of bread must be so hard on your delicate frame.” You teased, looking out at the apartment. “I think we’re pretty much done.”

He nodded, looking around. “It looks good. Not as good as what I’m used to, but-.” He shrugged slightly.

You breathed out a laugh through your nose, plopping down on the couch, sweat from moving things around making your shirt stick to your back. “Well, nothing will ever be as good as we had it before, Mister Disowned.”

“Hey, I had the option to go back and chose to be responsible and get a job, Little Miss High and Mighty Also Disowned.” Malcolm shot back, plopping down next to you.

The two of you sat there for a moment, taking this new space in. It was a two-bedroom apartment, right above a shopping district. It was plainer than what either of you were used to, but still more expensive than most normal people could afford. You were flying solo now. No net anymore, not since you cut ties with your father altogether.

“Are you really sure about this?” Malcolm asked. 

“Of course I am.” You scoffed, turning to him. “Both you and dad had a homicidal devil literally talking in your ear, and you – who didn’t even like me that much, ignored it. And my dad – who, last I checked, is supposed to care about me, couldn’t drown it out. I’ve tried for years to get than man to love me, and he almost killed me.”

You tucked your knees up to your chest. “I’m glad I’m not working for him anymore.”

“Well, I’m sure selling his trade secrets makes you feel better, right?” Malcolm asked. 

You chuckled; you’d recently started working for your father’s biggest competitor, for what was still a really good amount of money. But in order for you and Malcolm to split the rent, you’d had to downgrade. “Yeah, it’s something at least.”

Neither of you had any real reason to move in together expect for the fact that you were both recently cut off from your parents and had fucked around with sex demons. It had formed an oddly friendly bond between the two of you, because who else could you talk to?

“I’m glad we finally redecorated.” Malcolm stood, looking around with a content nod. “I wasn’t going for all that modern furniture you had in your loft before.”

“Not my fault you grew up around pubs and cottages and crap.” You chuckled, grabbing a package of cigarettes. “And I still had to pay and move most of it.”

“I’ve been told I’m too pretty to do real work.” He grinned, turning on the TV.

Rolling your eyes good naturedly, you walked out the door, heading down to the street.

It had warmed up quite a bit since you first moved in, and the shopping area was bustling with people. You leaned on a wall in an alley between two shops, putting the cigarette in your mouth. You’d almost quit, but weren’t quite there yet.

You shoved your hand in your pocket, feeling around you’re your lighter and finding none. You swore under your breath, feeling around your other pockets for a lighter.

Groaning in frustration, you turned to go back inside.

“Need a light?” A voice said behind you. 

“Oh my god, thank-.” You began to reply. When you turned, all of the muscles in your body went limp, and you sank to the ground before you could catch yourself.

“Hey, hey.” Brahms quickly slipped his hand under your arm, holding you up.

You were positive your eyes were playing tricks on you. There was no way they weren’t. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them back up, but he was still there, his arms still around you to stop you from falling to the ground. 

Brahms was smiling at you, his eyes wet as he held you. His scar was on his face, exactly like the day he died. He squeezed your arm as he sat back on the ground, pulling you into his lap. You offered no resistance as he held you.

“This can’t be real.” You whispered, shaking your head. It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be. It had to be some sort of trick. Some belated revenge from Greta? A complete mental breakdown? Hell, even a dream?

“It’s real.” He choked out, tears falling onto his cheeks. His perfect green eyes looked you up and down as he held you. “You’re real too.”

A choked sob escaped you, lifting your hand to touch his face. His face was warm on your fingertips. It felt as if it took all of your energy to lift your hand higher, running your fingers through his dark curls. It felt like him. It looked like him. It couldn’t be him.

You leaned closer, burying your face in his neck, ignoring how his tears wet your face as you inhaled his scent. It smelled like him.

“It can’t be.” You started crying harder, your hand falling into your lap. You couldn’t move. All you could do was sob. But Brahms was right there with you, holding your limp and sobbing form. “You disappeared!”

He nodded, rocking you back and forth slowly. “I did, I did.”

“G-Greta said that you were gone forever!” You dug your nails into his shirt, breathing him in, scared that he was going to vanish underneath you just like last time. “Was she lying, was it one last trick?”

Brahms shook his head, gently pushing you back so that he could look at your face. He brushed his thumbs over your cheeks, letting out a shuddering breath. “God, look at you. You’re so perfect.”

You kept sobbing. “This can’t be real.”

“I was supposed to vanish.” Brahms explained, exploring the features of your face with soft, loving eyes. “I don’t know, that’s what we were always told was supposed to happen, but, I think I was forgiven.”

“F-f-forgiven?” You were crying so hard you were hiccupping now.

“I think I got a second chance because I tried to save you.” Brahms said. He took your hand, bringing it to the spot he had been shot. “I woke up exactly where I died, over in the UK.”

You couldn’t even form words anymore, you were hyperventilating so hard. You just continued clutching at him, hot tears running down your face.

Brahms pulled you closer, rocking back and forth. “I think I was saved, because I tried to save you.”

“Wh-why didn’t you come home? Th-that was months ago!” You wailed, earning a concerned look from someone passing by. 

Brahms rested his forehead on yours, chuckling softly through his tears. “My old home was in shambles. I didn’t have any money, a passport, I had no way to get over here.”

You wiped your nose on your sleeve, trying to take a deep breath and failing. You settled for several smaller breaths instead. “Y-you could have called me!”

“I didn’t know your number!” He chuckled as you halfheartedly slapped his chest. “I’m sorry, I did everything I could to get back to you.”

“How did you?” You whined, wiping your eyes more. 

Brahms paused, petting your hair. “I think Greta got me here, actually. I, I was moping at home and suddenly I was here, in this alley. Only a demon could have done that.”

“Greta?” You snapped, sitting upright. “If I ever see her again, I’ll kill her!”

“Well, I get why you feel that way.” Brahms said slowly. “But, I think this is her way of giving us her blessing.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t care.”

“I know, but it means a lot to me.” Brahms stood, picking you up. “And it means we’re together now.”

Clutching his shirt, you looked up at him, still sniffing. You probably looked like a wreck with tears and snot all over your face, but Brahms thought you looked like the most beautiful human being in the world. He gently pressed his lips against yours, though you were still too distraught to kiss him back.

“(F/N)(L/N).” He whispered, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m just a human now. No more chances. I don’t know much about anything nowadays, and I probably won’t be ready for a real job until I know how things work better, but, will you still have me?”

You nodded quickly, sobbing harder again as you flung your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply regardless of how wet your face was. Brahms hugged you back tightly, kissing you just as deeply.

“I love you.” You cried, sniffing more. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Brahms whispered, resting his forehead on yours again. “Are you ready to be together again?”

You just nodded, trying to get yourself under control. 

Smiling, Brahms looked past you to the stairs. “Is that how we get home?”

“It is.” You rested your head on his chest, feeling his warmth and breathing him in. “Start walking, I’ll lead you.”

He held you close to his chest, and you could hear the sound of his heartbeat against your ear. You pointed forward, and he began walking the both of you toward your future together.


End file.
